Our Shadows Watch In Secret
by NorthPawRun
Summary: Sara warned them, she told them that she was someone with the ability to destroy everything good in their lives. They did not listen. After a series of events transform their world, Catherine and Nancy are left wondering if perhaps they should have.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hello everyone! Hope everyone is doing well. **

**Due to people stating that they would be interested in a sequel to Foxholes/Tempered, I have decided to continue the series with another story. THANK YOU all for your interest, it really means a lot. My brain is constantly running with thoughts, and I end up writing whether I want to or not just to get those thoughts out of my head and escape the world for awhile. It's still amazing to me to think that anyone has any interest in what comes out as a result. Hopefully I do not disappoint you guys as we continue along this next part of the journey.**

**Word of warning to all – much like my other stories, this one will have lots of ups and downs to it. I will tell you upfront that parts of it will get very dark. As always, the characters are in good hands, and hopefully you are willing to stick out the rough with the good right along with them.**

**Also, Lindsey is not in this story. You can picture her off doing whatever you wish – away at school, studying abroad, etc. Wherever you want her to be, that is where she can be for the sake of this story. I had thought about including her in the series, but after the first story I have felt that it wasn't going to work out well in this particular series. If she was in it, she would likely have ended up being there merely as a plot device, and didn't want to cheapen her character that way. I felt that if I wasn't planning to give her the attention she deserved, then it was better not to include her at all. Perhaps if I write future stories I will revisit her character.**

**Chapters in this story will be of varying length – they will be sized according to the flow of the story more than the number of words they possess.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or the characters. This story is written for entertainment and creative purposes only, and is not used for monetary gain of any sort.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

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><p>CHAPTER 1<p>

_"Are there, infinitely varying with each individual, inbred forces of Good and Evil in all of us, deep down below the reach of mortal encouragement and mortal repression - hidden Good and hidden Evil, both alike at the mercy of the liberating opportunity and the sufficient temptation?" _

_W. Collins_

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><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"'Moby Dick.' A poetry anthology. 'To Kill a Mockingbird.'"

"Really?" I question in surprise. "Those would be your three choices?"

Nodding, Sara remains completely confident in her decision, eyes scanning the length of metal and crushed stone at our feet, following their path toward the horizon.

"Alright," I give in. "I think it's a bit odd, though."

Furrowing her brows in thought, Sara raises her eyes to mine. "Why?"

"Because you've already read those," I answer her. "And, knowing you, I'm guessing you've already read them more than once."

I look at her and she doesn't disagree with my statement, her gaze simply moving back to our path.

"My answers were at least novel to me, no pun intended," I tell her.

Sara shrugs, hands tucked into her pockets against the cool breeze.

"If I'm going to be stranded on a deserted island, I think I would have enough 'novel' things to keep me occupied," she reasons. "I'd appreciate having something that feels familiar to me."

Raising a brow, I sip my tea, walking slowly alongside her as I mull over her answer.

"That actually makes some sense," I concede after a couple minutes.

A smile pulls at Sara's lips, her gaze still on the dark horizon.

Pulling a hand from her pocket, she reaches over to take hold of mine.

Walking step in step, neither one of us speaks, our companionable silence only interrupted by the sounds of the creatures also awake at this hour of the night.

Continuing further, we both slow our pace as we reach our destination, our feet quietly crossing the rusted iron platform.

Coming to a stop, Sara lets go of my hand and pulls herself up to sit on the old railing, reaching out to help me as I climb up to sit next to her.

I place my hand on her leg, using her to help me keep my balance as I continue to sip my tea and watch the darkness below.

"You know, this thing's going to collapse someday," I tell her.

Sara smiles, "Hopefully not with us on it."

Sara and I found this old train trestle during one of our walks together, and we have been coming here quite often ever since. The small bridge we are sitting on spans the length of a narrow wash below, built many years ago to siphon water away from our neighborhood when the rains of monsoon season hit the desert.

The tracks are no longer in use, and in some parts, particularly closer to our neighborhood, the old iron rails have been removed altogether.

The bridge isn't high, since the wash below isn't very deep, but in the dark of night all you see below you is blackness, giving it the illusion of a height it does not actually possess.

Still, it would be a hell of a nasty fall down onto solid concrete if one were to lose their balance.

Feeling Sara shift slightly under my hand, I watch as she blows into her fists, trying to warm her hands before pushing them back down into her pockets.

"Here," I offer her, holding out my still steaming tea.

Looking at me, Sara hesitates a moment before taking the offered item.

Swallowing a small sip, she hands it back to me.

"Thanks."

I nod, scooting closer to her for the sake of my own warmth just as much as hers.

"I think this winter's going to be nasty," I predict, noting how the nighttime temperatures have dropped both lower and earlier than they have in previous years.

I get the feeling that this winter is going to be anything but gentle, and that idea holds a certain ominous feeling all its own.

Sara nods, her dark hair shifting lightly in the breeze, her hazel eyes looking me over.

Wordlessly, Sara turns slightly away to pull her fleece over her head.

Reaching over, she places the item across my shoulders, tucking the sleeves around my neck to act as a scarf.

"Sara…" I protest, noting her bare arms and the thin material of her t-shirt.

"It's fine," she says simply, her attention already back on the moonlit desert around us.

Shaking my head at my stubborn, but thoughtful, lover, I move my hand from her leg to wrap it around her waist instead.

Pulling her body into mine, I try to share as much of my warmth with her as the laws of thermodynamics will allow.

I can't help but be reminded by her gesture of the first time that Sara performed a similar act for me. At that scene, what seems like so many lifetimes ago, processing that bat-riddled cave in the middle of the desert when she offered me her sweatshirt.

The same night that we stood together under the stars, and she explained to me the meaning of her unusual middle name. The same night that we held hands for the first time.

Smiling, my head comes to rest against her shoulder as I take a long deep breath, feeling my body relax and my eyes shift closed as I listen to the sounds of the night around us.

"If I fall asleep, please don't let me plummet to my death," I request in what sounds more like a mumble than a coherent statement.

Sara laughs quietly, her arm working its way around my side, mirroring my own hold on her.

"Never," she promises.

I wish that Sara and I could stay like this forever, held securely in one another's arms under the watchful gaze of the galaxy.

But, I know that any moment now, Sara's pager will go off as she is the CSI on call tonight. Murder yields to no one, and we have been lucky to have had this much uninterrupted time together this evening already.

Sure enough, just as I am almost completely asleep, a shrill beeping pulls me awake.

Taking a deep breath, Sara keeps a protective grip on me with her right arm as she shifts herself to pull the flashing item from her waist with her left.

Glancing at the screen, Sara silences the pager before clipping it back onto her belt.

"You have a scene?" I ask, not knowing why I am phrasing it as a question.

Sara nods, sending me an apologetic look before placing a soft kiss into my hair.

"I'm sorry," she offers quietly, her voice carrying along the breeze.

"Not your fault," I tell her sincerely in response.

Holding each other a few moments more, we finally break apart, stepping down carefully from the railing to begin our journey back towards our house.

As Sara threads her fingers through mine, I can't help but feel just the slightest bit torn about IA's decision to give Sara back her job after her involvement in the shooting of Christian Dane.

But, I remind myself, tightening my hold on her hand, her getting her job back may mean some interrupted nights for the two of us, but it also means a whole mess of days we get to resume working together side by side.

And, in the end, nothing beats working in a profession that you love with a person that you love even more.

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><p><strong>AN: Excited to start on another journey with you guys :) As always, I hope you continue to share your thoughts and comments with me. Thanks for reading.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hope everyone is doing well and your weeks are all starting out alright. Thank you so much to those of you who took the time to review the last chapter – it's amazing how much I have missed hearing from you all :) **

**Take care and enjoy.**

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><p>CHAPTER 2<p>

"_It is better to meet danger than to wait for it. He that is on a lee shore, and foresees a hurricane, stands out to sea and encounters a storm to avoid a shipwreck." _

_C. C. Colton _

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><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"Perfect, thank you," I smile, eyes glancing over the report in my hand before tucking it into a folder filled with a dozen others.

"Sure," Henry replies, attention already back on the long line of samples waiting to be processed.

Leaving him to work in peace, I make a detour for the breakroom, knowing that I am going to need some caffeine to get myself through the stacks of paperwork yet to complete on my open cases.

Things around here tend to move in fits and starts – leaving you periods of time with nothing to do, followed closely by times where it feels like you have fallen precariously behind.

Sighing, I pour myself the remaining coffee left in the pot, idly glancing around to see if anyone is witness to my drinking the last of the brew.

Turning to grab my files from the counter, I think I am safe when I hear someone step up behind me.

Blocking view of the now empty coffee pot with my body, I face the new occupant of the room with my best smile.

"Hey," I call, my smile expanding to a genuine one when I see who it is.

Sending me a funny look at my expression, Sara moves to grab a water bottle from the fridge.

"Hey."

"Want some coffee?" I offer innocently, knowing not to would raise suspicion.

Sara straightens up, pulling the cap from the bottle and taking a drink with a raised brow.

"What would you do if I said yes?" she asks, swallowing the water.

I try to keep my face neutral.

"What do you mean?" I question. "I would pour you some coffee."

"Oh," Sara says with a shrug. "Like a tea party."

I furrow my brows. "Huh?"

"You know," she says, folding her arms across her chest. "Little kids pouring imaginary tea for their imaginary guests. Like criminalists offering imaginary coffee to their coworkers."

Shaking my head with a groan, I move away from the coffee maker.

"How did you know?" I ask.

Sara smiles, "Catherine, everyone in the lab knows the 'Willows look' you give when you've just taken the last of the coffee."

My eyes widen, "That's _so_ not fair! I'm _always_ refilling this damn pot, even if I wasn't the last one using it! So people need to just-"

My words cut off when I notice the amused expression on Sara's face.

"You're pulling my leg," I conclude, seeing the smile pulling at her lips.

"Maybe."

Shaking my head, I close the distance between us.

"I was going to offer you some of my coffee to share, but now I'm not feeling quite so inclined," I tell her, trying to keep my own smile from my face.

"Hmm," Sara hums, her warm gaze evenly meeting mine. "Consider the lesson learned."

"Good," I tell her, trying not to get lost in her stare.

"Although," Sara says, clearing her throat, "It looks like you could use that coffee all to yourself. Were you able to get some sleep after I left last night?"

"Yes," I tell her warmly to let her know I appreciate her concern. "Don't worry, babe, I'm alright. Just a bit tired is all."

Sara looks me over, her eyes eventually fixing on mine.

"Just like you," I add quietly, taking in her own appearance.

Not able to resist, I reach out and run my fingers gently across her cheekbone towards her temple.

Sara doesn't respond, her eyes still assessing mine as my fingers trail their way down her jaw line.

"How was your case?" I ask, changing the topic and pulling my fingers away, trying to remind myself that where I am and what I'm doing don't mix.

Something in Sara's eyes shift at my question, and her body stiffens slightly under my gaze.

"What happened?" I question her, not liking the subtle signs her body is giving me.

Seeing my expression she shakes her head.

"Oh, no, the case was fine, Catherine," she assures me. "Nothing happened."

I keep my eyes on her silently, letting her know that I know something is up, whether it's case related or not.

Finally, Sara sighs.

"I came in here to let you know that I have to go back out to the scene," she confesses. "Some evidence came up that we have to take a second look at."

I breathe in slowly, catching the gist of what she is telling me.

"So, you won't be home tonight?" I ask.

Her eyes look heavy with silent apologies.

"No. Not until late, at least."

I nod softly, "Alright, I understand."

If possible, Sara's eyes grow even more saddened by my words, my defeated tone.

"Sweetheart, it's fine," I tell her tenderly but seriously, giving her hand a squeeze. "I promise."

Nodding, Sara leans forward, risking a quick kiss against my lips despite the public setting.

"Want to walk me out?" she offers, a sly grin crossing her features.

"More than anything."

Subtly, we break apart, Sara heading out of the break room towards the parking lot.

I wait about thirty seconds before I set the remnants of my coffee by the sink and follow after her.

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><p>Heading out the door, I make an immediate right, taking the back way to the lot.<p>

The way no one ever uses.

Smiling, I quickly spot Sara up ahead, standing near a cement divider that cuts off sight of this path from the lab.

Stepping up to her, I waste no time as I take her face in my hands and kiss her deeply, pressing her back gently into the cement behind her.

Smiling into my lips, Sara reverses our positions, deepening the kiss as her own hands find a spot on my hips.

Pulling up for air, we are both breathing heavily, our faces flushed and our bodies nearly vibrating with tension.

"I've wanted to do that all morning," I admit in a hilted whisper.

Shifting her body closer to me, Sara moves her hand from one of my hips, trailing it up my side instead as she leans forward to place her mouth against my neck.

"Oh, God," I moan as her lips make their way down my skin, trailing kisses in their wake.

My hands clench tightly to her back in a futile effort to keep myself centered.

As her mouth continues its journey towards my clavicle, Sara's leg comes to rest between my own. My breath catches immediately at the contact and the sensation it elicits deep within me.

Reaching down, I grab hold of the waistband of her jeans, pulling her hips flush against mine.

"Sara…" I whisper, somehow finding it necessary to warn her just how close I am to ripping off her clothes right here and now.

"Hmm," she mumbles distractedly, her attention clearly focused elsewhere, namely on the discoveries her hands are making as they move upward along my body while her kisses travel downward.

Bucking my hips against her, I increase the contact between our bodies, my hands sliding along her waist towards her belt.

"Sara…" I try to warn again, feeling I should probably advise the girl that I am about to relieve her of her pants.

Before I can utter anything more, I feel Sara's motions suddenly cease, her body grow eerily still.

She says nothing, does nothing, simply standing there as if frozen in time.

"Sara…?" I question, my own hands slowing but not stopping as they slip her belt out of the loop in her jeans and unfasten the buckle.

Sara doesn't respond, not to my words nor my actions, remaining silent and stationary.

Pulling back from her slightly, my hands now fall completely still.

Looking at her closely, I watch as Sara's head angles itself to the side, her posture tense.

"Sara?" I question more forcefully, but for some reason feeling the need to keep my voice low.

Wordlessly, Sara turns her body outward, leaving me with only her profile to search for some sort of answer.

Eyes narrowing, she scans the area around us, her expression alert as she searches for something unspoken.

Straightening my posture so I am standing fully upright, I look around as well, trying to see what it is she is looking for. What it is that has her suddenly so on edge.

Noting nothing out of the ordinary, I return my focus to the anxious brunette before me.

"Sara," I call again, reaching out to place my hand on her arm.

The physical contact seems to finally break Sara's spell, and she casts one last glance to our surroundings before turning her attention back to me.

"Sorry," she offers, her voice sincere.

"What happened?" I ask curiously, a bit concerned.

"I...I just thought I felt someone," she says vaguely, her tone hesitant.

"Felt someone?"

"Felt someone watching us," she clarifies quietly.

Feeling my own body tensing, I cast another glance around us.

Still not seeing anything out of place, I watch as Sara does the same.

Finally, Sara lets out a breath, her eyes slowly returning to mine.

"I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired," she offers.

"Maybe," I state quietly, knowing that it wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination that Sara's instincts be a bit off due to the sheer lack of sleep she's been getting lately.

However, I also cannot shake the knowledge that Sara's instincts are very rarely simply wrong or mistaken.

Glancing around her one last time, Sara turns her body fully back to me with a sigh, her posture finally relaxing as she places a kiss upon my lips.

"I guess we should part ways, anyway," she says reluctantly. "Process our scenes and all that…"

"Yeah," I agree with about as much enthusiasm as her. "We probably should."

Letting out a smile, Sara leans forward and runs her fingers through my hair.

"I'll remember where we were…you know, so we can finish this later," she says lowly, a glint playing across her eyes.

Smiling back at her in return, I fix her with a look.

"I'm counting on it, Sidle."

Reluctantly, we pull apart, breaking the remaining contact between our bodies.

Before she can walk away, I remember something with just enough time to grab her wrist and gently turn her back around. When her eyes meet mine, I send a suggestive look towards her pants.

Glancing down, Sara raises a brow when she sees her belt.

Sending me her own look, a look that is colored with both amusement and desire, Sara shakes her head and refastens the buckle.

With one final glance, she steps away towards the parking lot.

Not able to suppress a smile, I make my way to the front doors of the lab, looking back at the lot as I pull the door open.

Seeing Sara now standing by her Tahoe, I note that she is watching me, politely waiting until I'm back inside before she leaves.

I send her a smile and a wave as I step over the threshold.

Entering my office, I groan as I see the stack of papers waiting for me in my inbox. Taking a breath, I decide it's best to simply dive in and get it over with.

As I'm sorting through them, about to reach the bottom of the pile, I'm suddenly struck by a random thought.

While I know Sara was waiting by her car to be polite, something she's always done even before we were together, I can't help but wonder if today she wasn't also waiting to be sure I made it back inside the lab safely.

Making sure that, if there was someone watching us, they weren't watching with malicious intent.

Repressing a shiver at the thought, I finish my sorting before grabbing a pen and heading out into the hall, decidedly returning my focus to the day ahead.

This job has enough horrors without adding ones that may not even exist.

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><p><strong>AN: Hmm. As always, I hope you will share your thoughts with me. Thanks for reading.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you all so much for the kind reviews. This week at work has been a nightmare, and your words always bring a much needed smile to my face. **

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.  
><strong>

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><p>CHAPTER 3<p>

_"A man should choose a friend who is better than himself." _

_Chinese proverb_

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><p>NANCY POV<p>

Running my fingers over the smooth book spines, I slowly make my way down the shelf. Feet stepping silently into plush carpet, the only sound I hear is that of the coffeemaker brewing a fresh pot of Colombian roast somewhere down below.

Absently, I find myself thinking how grateful I am that someone decided to combine two of my favorite things together in one place – coffee and literature.

People in this town should have thought of it much sooner.

"When you asked for my help, this isn't exactly what I had in mind," a voice calls from behind me, startling me from my thoughts.

Turning my head, I furrow my brows.

"What?"

Sara smiles, gesturing to the shelf behind me, her eyebrows raised in question.

Turning, I see that my fingers had stopped their journey and where they landed are on the spine of a very large paperback.

A paperback entitled, _'What to do when your bedroom becomes a bore: 20 tips to keep the fire between the sheets.'_

Jerking my hand away, my eyes dart around me until they land on the plaque located at the top of the wooden shelf.

In bold, almost mocking letters, the sign announces that I am in the section entitled "Sex: Non-Fiction."

Rolling my eyes at the absurd description, no doubt some bored employee's idea of a joke, I cautiously step away from the shelf, reminding myself never to get lost in thought in a bookstore again.

"Oh my," is all I can think to say, not even bothering to try to come up with some sort of excuse to offer the brunette standing behind me with a grin the size of a small country.

Despite her obvious amusement, Sara doesn't comment, reaching out to hand me one of the coffees in her hands.

Recognizing the design on the cup, Sara must have bought it downstairs before making her way up to the book section of the coffee shop.

"Thanks," I tell her gratefully, taking a sip and closing my eyes as I taste the coffee that she prepared perfectly the way I like it.

Sara nods, her eyes traveling over the book titles around us, her expression becoming more and more perplexed the further they travel.

"Let's go somewhere else and sit," I suggest.

Nodding, Sara throws one last disturbed glance at the shelf next to her before following me downstairs and out of the shop.

"Mind if we talk out here?" I ask, noting the slight chill in the air and Sara's lack of a coat.

"Not at all," she replies, situating herself next to me on a bench overlooking the row of cafés across the street.

Sara and I have come a long way in rebuilding our relationship with one another after what happened with Chris.

We spent numerous days hiking and training together, helping Sara rebuild the strength in her leg to the point where she can now run on it. Granted, she can only run for a couple miles at a time, but I think her progress so far has been much better than either one of us was honestly expecting.

Now that Sara has gone back to work, we see significantly less of one another, catching up here and there when we can both find the time.

Emotionally, Sara seems to have been able to reestablish most of the trust that used to exist between the two of us, our interactions returning to what they used to be in the pre-Christian Dane era.

We laugh, we tease, we joke around with one another just like we used to.

To be honest, most of the time I forget about the drama that happened between Sara and I as a result of Chris, usually when we spend time together it's like the old Nancy and Sara never left.

One aspect of our relationship still hasn't quite healed, yet, however.

Physical trust.

Sara still initiates physical contact with me, offering me hugs or whatnot when I need support or comfort, but she hasn't quite been as comfortable being on the receiving end.

She never says anything about it, and I've had to pretend like I don't notice her flinches when I reach out towards her unexpectedly, or the fact that she keeps more distance between us then she ever used to.

It seems to me that while our emotional trust has been rebuilt almost flawlessly, for some reason, and I don't think it's intentional on her part, Sara has been having more difficulty allowing me near her physically.

Still, I remind myself that Sara and I have come a long way, and she simply needs a bit more time for the final pieces to fall back into place.

And, looking over at her, patiently drinking her coffee and waiting for me to tell her why I asked her here today, I can't help but smile.

Sara is worth the wait.

She is absolutely worth the wait.

I am so damn glad she is both stupid and stubborn enough to have let me back into her life.

Looking over, Sara sees my smile and my expression, narrowing her eyes at me suspiciously.

"What?" she questions, sending me a puzzled look as I continue to smile at her.

"Nothing," I respond, shaking my head. "Just glad to get to see you is all."

Sara's eyes search mine, knowing there is more I'm not saying.

She gives me one last look before diverting her attention to a couple arguing across the street from us.

"I know, I'm sorry," she says. "Things at the lab have been busy."

"I understand," I tell her sincerely. "How's work going, other than being busy?"

Sara shrugs.

"Good. Glad to be back."

I nod, taking in her simple answer.

Something tells me returning to work after being put on suspension for over a month after your second fatal shooting is anything but simple, but I don't push her.

"Thanks for coming here," I tell her instead. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Of course," Sara responds, giving me her full attention. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I reassure her, "I actually wanted to ask you about Catherine's birthday coming up."

"Oh," Sara replies, the topic not being an expected one. "Okay."

"I was thinking about taking her somewhere overnight," I tell her. "Nothing crazy, just a trip somewhere for a day or two to give her a chance to relax, get out of Vegas."

I sigh, "After everything that's happened this past year, I think it would be good for her to have some time away to just unwind with family."

Sara takes in my words, her eyes shifting to watch the couple that is now screaming at each other from opposite ends of their parked car.

"I think that's a good idea, Nancy," Sara says, turning her eyes back to me. "I think that's a really good idea."

I nod in relief, letting out a breath.

"Alright. Her birthday's next Saturday, so maybe doing something Friday and Saturday would work?" I suggest, thinking aloud.

"That should be fine," Sara says. "She's already scheduled to have Friday off. I can rearrange things to make sure she's covered for Saturday as well. I can even switch shifts with her if needed."

Narrowing my eyes in confusion, I shake my head.

"That won't help."

Pulled from her train of thought, Sara turns to me.

"What?"

"You switching shifts with her, Sara. That won't help."

Sara looks puzzled, her eyes telling me I am making no sense to her.

I, in turn, am also confused.

Very confused.

Just as I open my mouth to speak, it suddenly hits me what the problem is, where the confusion lies.

Closing my eyes, I take in a slow, calming breath.

"Sara," I call softly, shaking my head. "You're coming with us."

Opening my eyes, I fix her with a look.

"Did you honestly think I was going to plan a trip to take Catherine somewhere for her birthday and not include you?" I ask incredulously.

Seeing the look on her face, I know that is exactly what she thought.

"Your invite was implied," I tell her sternly.

Eyes shifting towards the couple across the street, Sara pulls at the lid of her coffee.

"Sorry," she says. "I just thought…"

"I know what you thought," I tell her tersely. "And you thought wrong."

When I said that Catherine could use some time away with family, in Sara's mind that didn't mean her. She assumed I was referring solely to Catherine and myself.

"God," I breathe out, shaking my head at her. "Someday you're going to believe me when I tell you that you're family. To me. To her."

Sara doesn't comment, keeping her focus on the early morning shoppers mulling around us before shaking her own head.

"I'm sorry," she offers quietly.

Taking a breath, she shifts her gaze back to the arguing couple who are now situated in their car, doors hanging open as their heated voices travel easily through the crisp air.

I know it makes me a bad person, but I secretly hope that one of them elects to start throwing things at the other sometime soon. People throwing objects is typically more amusing to watch than people throwing spiteful words.

"I'll see what I can do about our work schedules," Sara says, directing the conversation away from her and back to where it was.

I send her profile one last look before I nod.

"Thanks."

Then, trying to refocus my thoughts and my mood, I swallow some more coffee.

"Any suggestions about where to go?" I ask.

Sara thinks for a moment.

"Actually, yes."

Raising a brow, I give her my full attention.

"There's this place a couple hours away in southern Utah," she says. "It's up in the mountains, and it's beautiful this time of year. I can send you some information about it," she offers.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "I trust you."

Sara nods slowly, not really sure what to say in response.

"You want to tell her what you're planning?" she asks me instead.

"It's what _we're_ planning," I correct her. "And no, I think I want to try to keep it a surprise."

"Okay," Sara agrees. "I'll get things arranged."

"I can help," I offer with a cringe. "I didn't mean for all the logistics to end up getting dumped on you."

I am beginning to feel like a person who invites someone to dinner and then makes them prepare all the food.

Sara smiles at my expression.

"It's fine, Nancy."

Sighing, I shake my head.

"There are times, Sara Sidle…"

I trial off, knowing the ending of my statement is easily inferred by the perceptive brunette.

"If you strangle me," she tells me matter of fact, "the lab would have to investigate, and Catherine would most likely have to work both next Friday and Saturday."

I can't help but snort, "And we certainly can't have that."

"No," Sara smiles, "We can't."

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: THANK YOU to my reviewers - you guys have no idea how much it means that you take the time to let me know your thoughts. Much appreciated. Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

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><p>CHAPTER 4<p>

"_Time is precious, but truth is more precious than time." _

_Benjamin Disraeli_

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><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"Why are you being so weird about this?" I question Sara, throwing her a suspicious look.

"Weird about what?"

"Oh, I don't know, Sara," I shrug, "Maybe the fact that I just walked in on you and that guy from day shift about to get into a physical altercation."

A smile pulls at Sara's lips, her attention on the road in front of her.

"I wouldn't go that far."

I shake my head, wondering what planet she's on.

"He was yelling at you as if you were hearing impaired and you had your fists clenched so tightly you probably still have nail marks on your palms," I tell her bluntly. "You can pretend all you want, I know what I saw."

Sara shakes her head, not commenting, but knowing better than to contradict me.

"What the hell were you two so heated about, anyway?" I ask curiously.

Sara shrugs, changing lanes. "We had a bit of a disagreement about the schedule for this weekend."

"Really?" I question. "All that about a scheduling conflict?"

"He's passionate about his overtime."

"Sara," I groan. "Stop making a joke out of this."

Finally, Sara's expression shifts, her eyes glancing at mine.

"Catherine, it's fine. Really. There was a screw-up with the shift schedules, and we fixed it. It's not a big deal."

Taking my hand, she holds it tightly in hers, keeping her other on the steering wheel.

"Everything's fine, honey, I promise. Can we just forget about it and enjoy our evening?" she requests softly, chancing a look at me as she pulls into our drive.

Cutting the engine, she turns her body to mine. "Please?"

Looking at her expression, at her eyes that seem to always see right through me, I sigh.

Shaking my head, I know there is no point in trying to fight with her. And, she's right. There are much better ways to spend our evening than this.

"Fine," I tell her. "But only because I'm starving."

Sara laughs lightly, squeezing my hand.

"Thank you," she tells me sincerely before getting out of the car.

Entering the house, I throw my coat over the couch and immediately get a pot of water started on the stove.

Making her way into the kitchen, Sara raises a brow.

"You weren't joking about being starving."

"No," I shake my head, "I wasn't."

Staring at the pot, I try to will the water to start boiling with my mind. I want nothing more than to relax with a nice, steaming bowl of pasta. But, to do that, this damn water needs to come to a boil.

Smiling, Sara steps up to me, gently running her fingers down the side of my face. My attention instantly turns to her as her light touches send tingles down my spine.

Looking at her in question, she wordlessly leans forward and places a gentle but intense kiss on my lips.

Pulling back, she moves her lips to my ear.

"A watched pot…" she tells me, trailing off.

"Never boils…" I finish for her, my attention effectively hijacked as I find myself pulling her closer to me.

Her lips reacquaint themselves with mine, and I begin to seriously debate the idea of skipping dinner altogether.

But, something tells me Sara missed lunch again today as she was out at a scene most of shift, and I think we could both use some food and relaxation.

Pulling back, I give her a playful slap on the ass.

"Come on," I tell her, "Go get washed up and you can help me get the salads together."

Looking over, I see tiny bubbles starting to form in the water, light wisps of steam gathering along the surface and dissipating into the air.

Sara nods, disappearing from the kitchen.

* * *

><p>A short time later, Sara and I have polished off our dinner, Sara offering to do the dishes while I head for a much needed shower.<p>

I have removed my clothing and stepped under the warm spray when I hear Sara enter the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Glancing at the shower rack, I curse.

"Sar, can you do me a favor?" I ask over the noise of the water pounding against our stone flooring.

"Sure," she responds, rinsing the toothpaste from her mouth with water.

"I'm out of shampoo," I tell her. "Can you grab me a new bottle from under the sink?"

Sara bends down, getting the requested item before approaching the shower.

Sliding the glass door open, I reach out to take the bottle from her, my hand brushing inadvertently against hers.

Sara's gaze is respectfully on mine, and when my eyes meet her own, I suddenly feel my heart beat faster against my chest.

Neither one of us moves, both entranced in this moment, this inexplicable moment where we are the only two people who exist.

Without a conscious thought, I reach forward with my other hand, running it through Sara's hair.

Before I know what is happening, I feel my lips connecting with hers, water dripping unacknowledged to the bathroom floor below.

My breath catching, the kiss deepens, our tongues dueling for control as our free hands grasp tightly to one another.

Letting go of the shampoo bottle so that Sara is forced to hold it in her hand to prevent it from falling, I use my advantage to grasp her shirt tightly with both hands and pull her against me.

Reaching above my head, Sara shoves the shampoo bottle into the shower caddy before moving back down.

Letting out a gasp, I feel my bare back make contact with the cold tiles of our shower wall, Sara's hips flush against mine.

As I pull away for air, I hold Sara's face gently in my hands, watching as water falls from her dark lashes, her hazel eyes piercing mine.

"You're so beautiful," I tell her in a whisper, finding myself in awe of the woman standing before me.

Something crosses Sara's eyes, her expression shifting slightly before she reaches forward to run her thumbs across my cheeks.

"You have no idea what beauty is, Catherine," she says softly. "Not until you've seen yourself from my eyes."

Running her fingers down towards my neck and shoulders, I shiver under her gentle touch.

Leaning forward, she places her mouth near my ear.

"You define it," she whispers to me.

Pulling her head back again so that our gazes meet, I stare at her in amazement until I can no longer take it.

Reaching forward, I grab hold of her dark hair and let out a moan as our mouths crash together in a frantic and heated kiss.

Feeling her hands travel down my bare skin, I tremble as her cold fingers meet with the warm water falling against us.

Pushing my own hands under her sodden t-shirt, I grip her sides tightly.

"I'm sorry about your clothes," I mumble against her lips.

Feeling her smile, Sara simply moves further under the water's spray.

"I'm not."

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

Pulling up to my sister's house, I grab my bag from the backseat and sling it over my shoulder.

Ascending the porch, I smile at the sight before me.

Lying together on the porch swing, my sister is held tightly in Sara's arms, her head resting on the brunette's shoulder and their legs intimately entwined.

Sensing me, Sara opens her eyes, giving me a smile.

"Hey," I call quietly.

Hearing my voice, Catherine stirs, burying her head further into Sara as her eyes tentatively blink open.

Confused, Catherine looks at me, then around her.

"Nancy?" she questions, suddenly very awake. "What are you doing here?"

Simply smiling at her, I don't say anything, causing her to direct her confused gaze to Sara.

Sara isn't really much help either, simply looking back at Catherine with a grin.

"What the hell is going on?" Catherine asks, sitting upright.

Readjusting her position, Sara sits up as well.

"Alright," Catherine demands. "One of you is going to tell me what the hell is going on here. Because right now you both look like little schoolgirls hiding a secret."

Sara snorts, standing wordlessly and taking my bag, moving to place it in the back of her Tahoe.

Narrowing her eyes at me, Catherine stands as well.

"Nancy…" she threatens, looking between me and Sara.

Raising my hands, I shake my head.

"Nope, sorry."

Stepping back up on the porch, Sara is caught completely off guard when Catherine grabs hold of her by the belt.

"So help me God," Catherine gets out, her eyes darting between the two of us. "Neither of you is moving another inch until you explain yourselves."

Raising a brow, Sara looks down at Catherine's hand at her waist before moving her eyes to me.

She doesn't say a word.

"Uh," I tentatively start. "We're going somewhere. On a trip. And you're coming."

"What?" Catherine questions, shaking her head. "What are you talking about?"

Neither Sara nor I comment further, causing my sister to change tactics.

"Fine, a trip," she states. "To where?"

Sara and I both shake our heads at the same time.

Groaning, Catherine tries again. "Fine. How long?"

This time, I answer.

"Two days. Today and tomorrow. We'll be back late tomorrow night."

Furrowing her brows, Catherine shakes her head.

"We have work," she says in confusion. "I'm off today, but I have work tomorrow."

"No, you don't," Sara pipes in, finally speaking.

Searching Sara's eyes, Catherine starts to grow less angry and more intrigued.

"And you don't either?" she asks tentatively.

Sara shakes her head. "Nope."

"We both have the next two days off?" she repeats, trying to believe what Sara is telling her.

"Yes," Sara confirms, watching as a smile breaks out onto Catherine's face.

"Alright," Catherine gives in. "The two of you can keep your little secret. I'm content simply in the knowledge that we all have the next two days off, and we are apparently going to get to spend it together. That's all I need to hear."

Smiling, I meet Sara's eyes, the brunette now sporting her own pleased expression.

"Perfect, we ready to go then?" I ask.

"I have to pack…" Catherine says, looking at me like I'm nuts.

"You already are," Sara tells her simply.

"I am?" my sister questions. "When did you…"

Shrugging, Sara smiles. "You're a very heavy sleeper."

Finally releasing her hold on Sara, Catherine moves her hand from her waist to place it gently across Sara's chest instead.

"Thank you," she softly says, pulling Sara in for a quick kiss.

Turning to me, she sends me a smile.

"Thank you both," she says sincerely. "I have no idea where the hell we're going or what I'm in for, but thank you. This was very sweet of you guys."

Simply nodding, Sara and I deflect her gratitude, making our way to the car and waiting silently for her to follow.

* * *

><p>"Thank God for seatbelts," I mutter from my place in the backseat as Sara takes a turn at a rate of speed I'm confident isn't legal.<p>

"Thank God for backseat drivers," Sara responds evenly.

Shaking her head, Catherine rolls her eyes, "Children, do I need to separate you two?"

"Yes," Sara and I both respond in unison, earning a snort from my sister.

Sara doesn't comment further, but she does, however, thankfully slow the car down slightly.

Perhaps now we will only flip half a dozen times if we hit something.

Deciding that the best tactic for facing my imminent death is to simply avoid it, I pull out my book and resume my story of how a troubled and dying alien species found respite from extinction in an uninhabited parallel universe.

You know you're jealous.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Glancing behind me, I see that my sister has finally decided to stop harassing Sara about her slightly reckless driving style, and has her head now buried in a book.

Reaching over, I take one of Sara's hands in my own, resting them against the center console.

Eyes darting to the rearview mirror, Sara suppresses a smile.

"Be sure Miss Safety Town back there doesn't notice my hands aren't exactly in the ten and two o'clock positions," Sara says softly, the drone of the road drowning out her words so they won't reach Nancy.

Smiling, I give her hand a squeeze.

"She just isn't used to riding with you," I tell her. "And she isn't aware that you flew leer jets in a previous life."

Laughing, Sara rolls her eyes before getting serious. "I really can slow down, if it bothers you."

"Not at all," I tell her honestly, noting that she isn't really that much over the speed limit.

Sara, I know for a fact, saves her true reckless driving for when she's alone. If someone else is in the car with her, her driving can be considered downright tame.

"I trust you," I conclude simply.

Sara nods, her eyes scanning the scenery.

Looking around as well, I note the landscapes gradual change from barren desert to more lush and mountainous.

"You really aren't going to tell me where we're going?" I ask her, already knowing the answer.

"Nope," she responds.

"Well, I can tell we're headed northeast, so my guess is Colorado or Utah."

Sara shrugs, not commenting either way.

I shrug as well, "Doesn't matter," I tell her. "Just happy to be anywhere with you guys."

Sara smiles, squeezing my hand.

"Do I want to know what you had to do to get Ecklie to give you today and tomorrow off?" I ask, knowing with certainty Sara likely went through hell for this trip to work out.

"Let's just say I owe a couple people a couple favors," she states.

"That guy you were arguing with from day shift?" I ask with sudden understanding. "The 'scheduling problem' you two had?"

Sara lets out a smile. "Not so much a problem as the need for a slight readjustment. Really, no one needs a whole weekend off to watch golf on television."

"What do you owe him?" I question, almost afraid to know.

"My first born child."

My eyes widen with a snort at her unexpected response.

Sara shrugs, "He apparently doesn't know I'm sleeping with a woman."

Shaking my head at her, I can't help but laugh.

"You aren't going to tell me, are you?" I question.

"Nope."

"Fine," I reply, twining our fingers together. "Just know that I'm grateful, Sara."

Looking over, I let her eyes land on mine before she returns them to the road. I let her see my sincere gratitude, my appreciation for her actions that I do not have the words to express.

Simply tightening her hold on my hand, Sara nods.

"Anytime."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Holy moly, everything seems to be going so well for our favorite characters...hmmm. ;) As always, thank you for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: To my reviewers, you guys both keep the writing coming as well as make my day a good bit brighter. For both, I thank you. This chapter is a bit longer than usual...hope no one minds.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 5<p>

"_It is a cruel fate to have seen the beauty of a house before it burned to the ground. I pray instead you have a lifetime of observing only the ashes of origins unknown."_

_-N.R._

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Turns out, what my sister and Sara had planned for me was a stay in a beautiful resort in the mountains of southern Utah. From the first moment I laid eyes on the place, I was in awe.

The resort's main lodge is a stunning wooden lodge with chandeliers and candles lighting the stately old cherry wood. The best part about the resort, however, is that the guests do not all stay together in the main lodge.

Instead, each group is escorted to a private cabin, completely out of sight of the rest of the guests and visitors, but close enough to reach the lodge for meals or other activities as desired.

Stepping out onto our private balcony, I breathe deep the clean, pine scented air around me.

You simply don't get fresh air like this in Vegas.

Feeling arms snake around my waist, I hold them tightly in my hands without opening my eyes.

"Are you happy?" Sara asks me quietly, her voice near my shoulder.

"Sara," I tell her sincerely, "I couldn't be any happier than I am in this moment."

"Good," Sara responds softly, and we both grow quiet, simply enjoying the secluded world around us.

* * *

><p>"Godfrey Churn?" I question, my eyes wide.<p>

Nancy shrugs, "I don't give a damn what his name is, it's only his hands that I care about."

"Alright," I relent somewhat dubiously, "Good luck with that."

Smiling, Nancy sends us a wave and heads out the door for her massage with a man named Godfrey Churn. Knowing my sister, she cares much less about the massage than the opportunity it allows Sara and I to have some time together alone.

"You sure you didn't want to go with her?" Sara questions, stepping into the kitchen area of the cabin.

"Sara," I chastise, "I haven't had any time alone with you in what feels like weeks. So, no, I would much rather enjoy every possible minute we have than be stabbed by some stranger."

Sara smiles, rinsing out her coffee mug. "Wasn't aware that 'stabbing' was part of a massage."

Coming around into the sitting area, Sara perches herself against the armrest of the couch.

"So what would you like to do?" she asks me.

Stepping up to the picture window, I gesture out towards the mountains. "What goes on out there?"

Sara shrugs, "There are some trails for hiking, cross country skiing, snowshoeing, things like that."

I smile, "I want to snowshoe."

Raising a brow, Sara looks at me dubiously. "You? You want to snowshoe?"

I nod emphatically, "Yes, Sara. I want to snowshoe."

She narrows her eyes. "You told me you hated the snow."

"I hated living in it for months on end when I lived in Montana," I tell her. "But I actually miss it from time to time and would love to spend a couple hours out there. It's beautiful out today."

Sara shrugs, straightening to a stand. "You don't have to convince me."

Smiling, she takes my hand, grabbing our coats and hats and heading out towards the great outdoors.

* * *

><p>"So," Sara questions, plopping herself down beside me. "Is snowshoeing everything you dreamed it to be?"<p>

Laughing, I rest my head against her shoulder, feeling her catch her breath.

"Better," I tell her honestly.

Despite my lack of coordination in most sporting activities, snowshoeing for some reason came more naturally to me. Perhaps because, if you have the art of walking mastered, you really have the most pivotal skill already handled.

Sara and I made great time, reaching the overlook we now find ourselves at in little more than an hour.

"God," I breathe out. "Look at this."

"I know," Sara says from beside me, her own eyes plastered on the sight before us.

As far as the eye can see are the peaks and drops of regal mountains, each one covered in blankets of snow and evergreens.

Having picked a more or less unlisted trail, there is not another person for what I suspect to be miles.

It's gorgeous.

"Thank you," I breathe out, tightening my hold on Sara's arm.

Shaking her head, Sara's eyes remain fixed on the frozen world around her.

"Stop thanking me," she says with a grin. "I'm enjoying this as much as you are."

Unable to resist any longer, I reach over and gently turn her face to mine. Leaning in, I kiss her softly against her lips.

Pulling back, Sara watches me silently, falling snow gently coming to land in her long lashes.

Without a word, she leans over and continues the kiss, our gloved hands resting against pinkened faces.

When we pull back, I cast my eyes out over the snow-dusted pines spread below us.

"Sara?" I question, my voice drifting easily along the frozen air. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she responds, her breath leaving her mouth in wisps of white before disappearing.

"Do you ever think about getting married?" I question.

Instantly, Sara's head jerks to mine, her gaze planted firmly on my own. Searching my expression, she assesses me carefully.

It's clear that she is desperate to determine if I am serious.

"Us?" she questions.

"Yes, Sara," I shake my head, unable to help the smile that comes to my lips at her absurd question. "Us."

Growing serious again, I watch as a myriad of emotions play across Sara's eyes, their colors literally deepening with the emotions swirling underneath.

"All the time," she finally responds, her voice quiet.

"Really?" I question in surprise.

"Yes," she says seriously.

I nod silently, taking in this new information. Lately, I have been finding myself thinking more and more about my relationship with Sara.

I hate referring to her as my girlfriend or my partner to people, it feels so inadequate for what Sara is to me. What Sara means to me.

She is the only person in this world for me, and I want the world to recognize her as such.

I was worried, however, that perhaps Sara didn't feel the same. That maybe I was ready to commit to something that she wasn't, or won't ever, be ready to commit to.

Sara is a hard person to read sometimes, but one thing I know about her is that she hates to feel trapped or forced into a situation. I was worried that the idea of marriage would be like one giant nightmare for someone like her.

Feeling a hand on my cheek, my attention is directed back to the brunette beside me.

"Catherine?" Sara questions me softly.

"Sorry," I tell her. "It's just a lot to think about."

Sara nods, reaching over to pull me close.

"Would it freak you out to know that I was looking at rings about a month ago?" she asks quietly.

"What?" I question, genuinely surprised. But, at the same time elated. "You were?"

Sara smiles, her eyes still out on the mountainsides.

"I didn't mean to. But I was walking back to my car after a scene, and I passed this jewelry store. I don't know what came over me, but I went inside."

She turns her head so she can meet my eyes.

"I didn't buy anything, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about it." A rueful smile crosses her face. "Haven't been able to stop thinking about making an honest woman out of you."

Slapping her arm playfully, I shake my head at her.

"Sara, I had no idea," I admit in surprise.

She nods, leaning in to place a kiss into my hair. "I had no idea you thought about it, either."

I can't help but laugh. "We should really find more time to talk to each other."

Sara laughs as well, holding me close.

Taking a deep breath, I watch the snow falling all around us, the air so still and silent that I swear I can almost hear the flakes as they land amongst the trees.

"We'll revisit this," she promises me. "We'll do this properly."

I nod at the promise she is offering me with her words and confirming with her eyes, not caring in the least how long I have to wait. All that matters right now is that Sara is at my side and we are both ready to take this next step in our lives together.

Running my hand down her cheek before laying my head against her shoulder, I cling to Sara tightly.

I never want to let her, or this moment, go.

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

Seeing Sara standing out on the balcony, I toss my cabin key on the counter and step out to join her.

"Hey," I call hesitantly, wondering why the hell she is standing out in the cold with only a tank top and running shorts.

Sara doesn't respond, and judging from the sweatshirt held in her hands, it's clear to me that she is lost in thought.

Reaching out, I place my hand on her arm, watching as she jumps at the contact.

Turning, she sees me, taking in a breath.

"Hey, Nancy, sorry."

Raising a brow, I watch the snow falling around us.

"You alright? You and Catherine seemed in your own little world tonight at dinner," I tell her with a smile.

Dinner was fantastic, and I really enjoyed spending the evening together, but I have to admit I was a bit creeped out by the grins that seemed permanently affixed to my dinner companions' faces.

Let's just say they were eerily happy, and I'm positive it had nothing to do with the food, delicious as it was.

"Catherine's taking a shower so I was going to head out for a quick run," Sara responds, as if that answers my question.

"Okaaay," I state, drawing out the word to let Sara know she isn't fooling anyone.

To let her know that I am aware that something is up, even if I am willing to back down about it.

"You want to come?" she offers.

Raising a brow, I shake my head. "I would just slow you down."

"The snow will slow me down," she responds. "It's likely going to be more of a walk than a run."

I am genuinely tempted for a moment before shaking my head. "No, that's alright."

"You sure?" she asks, turning to face me fully.

As soon as she does, I feel my heart slam to a stop in my chest.

I can't move.

I can't breathe.

"Nancy?" Sara questions, her voice sounding concerned, but also sounding very far away.

Reaching out, Sara takes hold of my arm, probably worried that I am about to pass out as I can feel the blood draining from my face.

"Nancy?" she prompts again, this time more insistent. "Are you alright?"

Forcing my eyes back to hers, I nod my head, physically trying to shake my thoughts back on track.

Watching me, Sara's eyes travel from mine to what I was previously staring at. Looking down at herself in confusion, I see the moment recognition hits her.

Without a moment's hesitation, Sara immediately puts on her sweatshirt.

"Nancy, I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I didn't realize…"

She trails off, and by this time my spell has been broken enough for me to feel more embarrassed than anything about what just happened.

My reaction caught me completely off guard, to say the least.

"No, Sara," I respond. "It's not your fault. I don't know what happened."

Sara looks uncomfortable, not sure what to say or do right now. "Nancy…"

I shake my head, sending her a knowing smile.

"It's alright, Sara. Really. I was going to see it sometime."

Sara lets out a breath, her concerned eyes fixed on me.

"It's just a scar, Nancy," she says quietly. "Nothing more."

She waits until my eyes meet hers.

"Nothing more," she repeats. "Not to me."

I nod at her words, taking them in. I know she is being honest with me, that she holds no ill will towards me for the two deep scars marring her shoulder as a result of my actions.

That knowledge helps, but it can't quite silence the thundering in my chest that resulted from seeing them for the first time.

I saw the incisions from the surgery when she was still healing, but I haven't seen the area since.

I haven't seen the scars that now mar her skin, and will for the rest of her life.

"Nancy," Sara calls, drawing my attention back to her once again.

It's clear to Sara, that while I am looking at her, my thoughts are still elsewhere.

My mind is elsewhere.

Shaking her head, Sara suddenly steps away from me to pull her sweatshirt up and over her head. Then, without a word, she does the same with her tank top.

Now, stepping slightly closer to me in nothing more than a sports bra and running shorts, she turns around.

Pointing to a spot below her left shoulder blade, she draws in a breath.

"From a beer bottle, when I folded the shirts in the laundry wrong."

My eyes take in the long scar, trying to process everything she is saying as her fingers move to a spot at the base of her neck.

"From a cigarette lighter, when I placed second in the state science fair."

Shifting, she points to a spot at her hip.

"From a plate glass window, when I borrowed a book from the library without asking my parents' permission."

Turning back around to face me, Sara's eyes fix themselves on my own.

"I could go on, Nancy," she says, and evidence of that horrible truth is on clear display in front of me.

"Those scars," she says sternly, "I'm not okay with. Will never be okay with."

She takes a breath before pointing to her shoulder.

"But this one?" she says. "This scar that was caused by my best friend when she simply did what was necessary to protect herself and the woman I love more than anything on this planet?"

Her eyes smolder into mine.

"This one I'm more than okay with, Nancy."

Silently staring at one another, I eventually break the moment by looking away so that I can wipe the moisture from my eyes.

Nodding, I return my gaze to hers.

"Thank you," I tell her in a whisper.

Moving away, Sara grabs her sweatshirt and pulls it back over her head.

Stepping forward, she takes me into her arms, silently holding me until I have myself pulled back together.

"Come on," she tells me with a warm smile. "You're coming on that walk with me."

Shaking my head, I can't help but roll my eyes as she fixes me with a look before disappearing inside to head out the back door down below.

Sometimes I want to kill Sara, but most times I want to simply kiss the girl senseless for her ability to read me so well. To know exactly what to say to me, to know exactly what I need to hear.

She's the type of friend that everyone should be so blessed to have in their life.

Before I have time to react, I suddenly find something cold and wet colliding with the side of my face.

Turning in shock, I look down at my shirt to find confirmation of what I suspected.

"Flynn!" I hear yelled below me. "I meant it!"

I duck just in time to avoid a second snowball from hitting me in the face, hearing it smack against the sliding door behind me instead.

Smiling despite myself, I grab an armful of snow and take off into the cabin.

Sara has no idea what she just started.

She may have better aim than me, but I have something much more valuable in the cold during a snowball fight.

I actually have on pants.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Opening my eyes, I blink slowly at the sunlight coming in through the window. Getting my bearings, I turn slightly to the side, taking in the long legs next to me.

"Morning," Sara greets as I pull myself up to sit along the headboard next to her.

Leaning over, Sara places a soft kiss to my lips before pulling away with a smile on her face.

"Happy birthday, Catherine."

Smiling as well, I pull her in for another kiss, moaning into her lips.

"Happy birthday, indeed," I agree.

Moving her head back, Sara extracts herself from the bed.

"Don't move," she instructs me.

Raising a brow, I stay put as she leaves the room.

Entering again no more than a moment later, Sara steps through the door with a tray in her hands.

Making her way to the bed, she places the tray on my lap.

"Oh my God," I breathe out, taking in what's before me.

Looking over the food, the flowers, the coffee, I shake my head at how incredibly thoughtful the woman I fell in love with is.

Then, my eyes fall on what she made for me.

"Sara," I gasp. "I can't believe you remembered…"

Sitting softly beside me on the bed, Sara shrugs without comment.

Reaching over, I trace my fingers across her temple and down her cheekbone.

"Thank you," I tell her sincerely, my eyes watering.

Smiling at me, Sara takes my hand in hers and places a kiss along my knuckles.

I had once told Sara that my favorite birthday memories were when my grandfather was living with us in Montana when we were younger. He would wake us up at the crack of dawn, and he would make the most incredible black raspberry pancakes.

Looking down at the same pancakes on my plate, I close my eyes.

The smell of them alone takes me back to those cherished childhood days.

"I can't promise they taste anything like your grandfather's," Sara warns.

Opening my eyes, I place my hand across her chest. "They don't have to."

Sara nods, taking in my meaning, watching me as I start to dig in.

Swallowing, I groan.

"Sara, these are amazing," I tell her sincerely. "You have nothing to worry about."

Smiling, she settles back against the headboard, silently watching me as I eat.

"Aren't you going to have something?" I question her, feeling awkward gorging myself while she's silently watching without anything of her own.

"I'm good," she tells me, reaching out to run her fingers softly through my hair as I continue to eat the copious amount of food before me.

Just as I am finishing, there is a hesitant knock on the door.

Poking her head inside, Nancy has her eyes covered with her hands.

"Can I come in?" she asks. "Are you guys decent?"

Laughing, I toss a spare pillow off the bed at her. "Yes, smartass."

Opening her eyes, Nancy grins.

"Happy birthday, sis!" she greets excitedly, moving to the side of the bed to place a kiss on my cheek.

"Thank you," I tell her warmly, watching as her eyes travel over the empty plates.

Seeing the ones that held the raspberry pancakes, she sends a questioning look my way before fixing her eyes on Sara.

Face breaking out into a beaming smile, Nancy only nods, her attention turning back to me.

"Well, as soon as you're ready, Sara and I have a couple things planned for you today," my sister informs me.

"Oh really?" I inquire curiously, glancing over at Sara who is remaining silent on the matter.

"Really," Nancy responds. "In fact, I need to borrow Sara for a moment while you get dressed."

Leaning over, Sara places a kiss into my hair before grabbing the tray from my lap, turning to follow Nancy out of the room.

"See you in a few," she promises me with a wink.

* * *

><p>The 'couple things' Nancy and Sara had planned was more like an entire day full of things.<p>

There wasn't a single moment were we all weren't smiling or laughing as we did one sort of activity together or another.

I have never been so pleasantly exhausted in all my life.

Turning around in the darkened Tahoe as we make our way back home, I can't help but smile at my sister fast asleep in the back seat, the crooked birthday party hat she insisted on wearing the entire day still atop her head.

Reaching over, I take Sara's hand in mine as she keeps us moving through the silent and deserted freeway towards Vegas.

Squeezing her hand, I smile back at her when she turns to smile at me, and I allow my eyes to close in surrender to the pull of sleep.

Who knew it was possible to be this happy?

"Cath…"

Sara gently prompts me awake and helps me out of the car to head into the house.

"Did Nancy already leave?" I ask blearily, noting that her car is no longer in the drive.

"Yeah," Sara tells me softly. "She left a few minutes ago, said she would call you in the morning."

I nod, making my way with Sara into the bedroom.

Quietly, we both get ready for bed, exhausted after our busy day and our late arrival back home.

Exiting the bathroom, I find Sara sitting on the edge of our bed waiting for me.

"Thank you so much for everything, Sara," I tell her, knowing I will never be able to thank her or my sister enough for this trip.

It was exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it.

Sara smiles, shaking her head before she grows serious again.

Taking in her expression, I sit next to her.

"You okay, babe?" I ask.

Pulling herself from her thoughts, she nods.

"Yeah," she says. "I actually have one more thing I wanted to give you."

My eyes grow wide, wondering what in the world could there possibly be left on this earth for her to give me.

Before I can speak, she reaches beside her and pulls out a long black box.

Handing it to me wordlessly, I search her eyes for a moment before accepting it.

"I wanted to give this to you in private," she explains quietly.

Opening the box in my hands slowly, I gasp at what I find inside.

"That day I went into the jewelry shop, I didn't buy the rings. But I didn't leave empty handed, either," she whispers.

Running my fingers over the necklace, I take in the brilliant blue sapphires and the glimmering aquamarines that are blended together in perfect harmony along the silver strand.

"Our birthstones," I breathe out, recognizing my own topaz and seeing the sapphire of Sara's September birth month.

Reaching for the silver pendent in the center, I turn it over in my hand, admiring its beauty.

Looking closer, I'm surprised when I see Roman numerals subtly inscribed along the back.

"It's the date I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you," Sara explains softly from my side.

Seeing what the date is, I cannot help but smile. "It's the day we met."

Sara smiles softly as well.

Pulling her in for a kiss, I close my eyes as I rest my forehead against hers.

"Sara, I don't know what to say," I tell her honestly.

No thanks could ever be enough.

Kissing her softly, Sara is smiling at me when we break apart.

"You just said it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hmm...seems we have reached the peak of happiness for these two...guess there is really only one place to go from here... ;) Hope you enjoyed the 'pleasant' part of this journey, I think we all know I have an inability to simply let people be happy in my stories. Not really sure what that says about me. Thanks for reading, would love to hear your thoughts. <strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Thank you to those who have reviewed - means a lot to hear your input and I thank you so much for your kind words. It helps keep the inspiration going. Glad you guys have seemed to enjoy the pleasant beginning...now onto the rest of the story ;)  
><strong>

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 6<p>

_"It is an equal failing to trust everybody, and to trust nobody." _

_English Proverb_

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Arriving at work the next morning after our trip I am so exhausted I can barely keep myself upright, but I cannot for the life of me wipe the silly grin I have off my face.

I don't think I've ever had a better time than the last two days I got to spend with two of my favorite people in this entire planet. Even if now it means I am somewhat sleep deprived heading back to work.

Coming to a dead stop in my office doorway, I feel Sara, also a bit out of it this morning, slam right into my back.

"Sorry…" I mumble to her, my eyes wide as I take in the sight before me.

Stepping around to see what I am looking at, Sara comes to my side and promptly bursts out laughing.

My eyes are still wide in horror, my mouth hanging open when I feel her pat me on the shoulder.

"Good luck with that," she chuckles in amusement, stepping away, her laughter trailing after her down the hall as she heads to the locker room.

Finally crossing over the threshold, I move warily to my desk, curiously wondering how the hell it's possible to generate this much paperwork in two days. I also wonder if there are any trees left in the continental United States.

Groaning at the stack of files threatening to topple off onto my floor, I drop myself into my chair.

Shaking my head, I grab a pen, amazed that, even after seeing the work I have ahead of me, my goofy smile returns itself promptly to my lips.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"You mad that Nick is going to get a better birthday celebration than you?" Sara questions after we have left the lab for the night, making a left turn as the light turns green.

Smiling, I watch the cars as we pass them by.

Nick and I have birthdays very close together, and we usually end up celebrating them together for practicality. But not this year, I remind myself with a smile.

"Very," I tell her, trying to keep my voice serious. "A night of drinks at a bar after work versus two glorious days at a resort in the mountains of Utah."

Turning to face her, I shrug, "Nick clearly got the better deal."

Smiling, Sara merges into traffic. "Clearly."

Reaching out, I run my hand through Sara's soft hair, my fingers trailing down her neck towards her shoulder.

Making a right, Sara chances a glance at me when she completes her turn.

"You okay?" she questions softly, taking in my expression before turning her attention back to the road.

Smiling, I let out a breath before removing my hand.

"Yeah," I sigh. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."

Sara smiles, "Yeah, don't tell Nick what we did for your birthday as opposed to his. He may develop a complex."

Smiling as well, I shake my head before returning my gaze to the woman sitting next to me.

"I was thinking more about how lucky I am to have you."

Smile dropping from her face, Sara grows serious, her eyes meeting mine briefly as she switches lanes.

A few moments of silence pass, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Without a word, Sara reaches over and takes my hand in hers, lacing our fingers together.

Neither one of us speaks for the rest of the ride. Neither one of us has to.

Turning into the parking lot of Spurs, a Texas themed bar that is Nick's favorite place to drink the night away, Sara picks a spot near the back.

Quirking my brow at her, she shrugs.

"Statistically, this is the safest location in a parking lot."

I have no clue whether she is being serious or completely messing with me, but I decide that in the end I really don't care. I'm happy to have the extra moments alone with Sara that it takes to walk into the bar.

It's weird, because even though we have just spent the last two days together, I hate the thought of not having the night to ourselves tonight. Of not getting to spend the evening curled up with her and Mesa on the couch, reading a book or watching some corny movie on television. The last two days have spoiled me, and I hate transitioning back to the real world where our time together is a gift and not a given.

Coming to a stop at the door, we both pause.

Without a word, Sara turns to me, placing a soft kiss against my hair.

"I love you," she says quietly.

Smiling, I tuck her dark hair behind her ear.

"I love you too."

* * *

><p>Heading inside, I spot Nick, Greg, Sophia and Brass sitting at a booth near the back. Joining them, we joke around for a couple minutes before I offer to buy the first round of drinks.<p>

Walking up to the bartender, I place my order of tequila shots and beers when my attention is drawn to a man sitting a couple seats down.

Looking at him, I realize he grabbed my attention because he's staring at me intently. When he notices that I've caught him, he immediately straightens up and his cheeks turn a bit red around the edges.

"I'm sorry, miss, I didn't mean to stare," he states pleasantly.

Looking him over, I see that he is nicely dressed in a business suit, likely a lawyer at the firm down the street or some other office worker catching a drink on their way home. Satisfied that he isn't drunk or creepy, I send him a smile.

"It's alright," I tell him, turning my attention back to the bartender as he prepares my drinks.

Realizing that the man is still looking at me, I turn to him and place my hand on my hip in silent question.

Clearing his throat, he shakes his head.

"Sorry, it's just…gosh, I don't know how to say this, I mean, it's really none of my business even…" he starts to trail off.

Finally collecting his thoughts, and his courage, he takes a breath.

"That woman you came in with, are you two dating?"

Instantly, I feel my defenses rise. Granted, most of the bars in Vegas are pretty accepting of openly gay relationships, but this is a Texas themed bar.

Not to stereotype, but if there were to be a problem with being seeing in public with Sara at any bar in the city, a Texan bar would not be a complete stretch of the imagination for which to find problems.

Facing him square on, I cross my arms across my chest.

"Yes, I certainly am."

Seeing my expression, he instantly pales.

"Oh, no, I wasn't asking because I have a problem with it or anything, love is love. I just…uh…look, she gets around, okay? I just thought you should know."

Furrowing my brow, I turn my gaze towards Sara to be sure that we are talking about the same person.

"Sara?" I question. "The brunette over there?"

Following my gaze, he points to where Sara is joking with Greg.

"Yeah, the skinny brunette laughing with the young man with the crazy hair."

It's clear that he is talking about Sara.

"What do you mean 'she gets around'?" I ask, still convinced that he is somehow confused.

"I saw her here a couple times with another woman that definitely wasn't you," he states.

"Look," he says, drawing in a breath. "I know it's none of my business, but I just found out that my wife of ten years has been cheating on me behind my back. I wish to the heavens someone would've told me. I mean, it was going on for _years_ before I found out. Turns out, all my friends knew and none of them could figure out how to tell me."

He sighs, "I'm sorry, I just thought you should know."

I nod in sudden understanding and relief.

"I appreciate your good intentions," I tell him, sending him a warm smile. "But I know that Sara comes here sometimes with another woman. Especially because that woman is my sister, who also happens to be Sara's best friend."

Instantly, the man's face relaxes and he lets out a good hearted laugh.

"Oh man, seriously?" he groans. "I'm so sorry. God, this is embarrassing," he mutters, shaking his head.

"No problem," I tell him, "I appreciate your looking out for me. My ex-husband was a bastard and a cheater, and I'd have given anything for someone like you to have warned me about his philandering ways back then."

Sending him a smile, I gather up the drinks the bartender placed on the bar for me.

Chuckling, he gestures to the drinks, "I'm really sorry, tell your friends the next round's on me."

I smile, offering him my thanks.

"You do look a bit like her now that I think about it," he says with a smile just as I have turned to head back to our table.

Turning back around in puzzlement he clarifies.

"Your sister," he says, "Well, as long as you ignore the fact that she has black hair, of course."

Sending me a final warm smile, he returns his attention to his drink.

Feeling my stomach sink to my feet and the smile slide from my face, I turn back to face Sara who is now talking with Brass.

Nancy most definitely does not have black hair.

* * *

><p>The whole night, all I can think about is what that man at the bar said to me.<p>

I want to think of the myriad of ways that he could be mistaken, the myriad of reasons why Sara would be at a bar with another woman. Reasons that don't involve her cheating on me.

The idea of Sara cheating simply does not fit in my mind.

Sara is a lot of things, most of them good, and the one thing she definitely is not is a cheater.

There is no way.

Still, it's disconcerting, and I know that Sara has picked up on my troubled mood.

Sending me her thirtieth concerned glance of the night, she gestures to the back door of the bar. Catching the hint, I nod, downing the last of my drink for some extra courage.

Allowing Sara to take my hand, we make our way through the crowd and out into the night air.

Once we are outside, Sara lets go and turns to me with concerned eyes.

"Are you alright, Catherine? Was that guy at the bar hassling you?" she asks.

The expression on her face is worried, anxious to find out what has me so bothered so she can figure out how to be of help.

"No, he wasn't."

I pause, here goes.

"He told me he's seen you here with another woman," I tell her. "A woman with dark hair, so don't even try to tell me it was Nancy."

I hate how accusatory my voice sounds. I don't believe that Sara would cheat on me for a second, but somehow that doesn't stop the accusations and hurt from seeping into my words.

"What?" Sara questions, her face contorted in confusion.

I respond only with my silence.

Sara pauses, taking in my posture, my expression, her body growing eerily still.

Then, she finally seems to take in my words.

The meaning behind my words.

"Catherine, are you asking me what I think you're asking me?" she questions quietly in disbelief.

I nod solemnly, "Yes, Sara, I think I am."

Instantly, Sara takes a step away from me, concern melting from her features and quickly being replaced with something much different.

Something much more heartbreaking to see in the eyes of the woman that I love.

Pain.

"I wasn't ever here with anyone other than Nancy," she states, her voice low and firm.

"Are you sure?" I press, hating that I am even entertaining the notion of Sara fooling around on me.

"Yes, Catherine, I'm sure," she forces out, looking at me like I just told her Mesa ran out into the street and got hit by a car.

Looking at me like I have betrayed her in the worst of ways.

And, I think maybe I have.

Shaking my head, I soften my voice.

"I know, I'm sorry," I breathe out. "God, Sara, I don't know why I even considered it. You're the most loyal person I've ever met. You'd die before you ever cheated on someone."

Sara closes her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them I cannot sort out all the emotions they hold.

"Can we go back inside and forget I ever said anything?" I ask her, desperately hoping that we can just move on.

This conversation is one that we never should have had.

I know that now, and I knew it before.

I can't believe what I just accused the woman that I love of doing.

I can't believe what I just accused Sara, the woman who has gone through absolute hell for me and my family, of doing.

I am ashamed.

Nodding, Sara takes a breath.

"Yeah," she responds. "I'm going to grab a cigarette, but I'll meet you back in there in a minute."

"Okay," I say, understanding that Sara needs a moment alone to collect herself.

Turning as I reach the door, I bring my eyes to hers.

"Sara, I really am sorry."

Nodding, Sara tries hard to bring a smile to her face.

"I know," she tells me. "It's fine."

I nod, reentering the bar with a sigh.

Sara returns a couple minutes later, sending me a small smile as she takes her seat across from me.

I know that, although she is trying gallantly to hide it, she is not alright after our conversation in the alley.

Heart clenching, I try to pay attention to the story that Greg is sharing when all I can think about is the brunette sitting across from me.

And, I am horrified to admit, I find my thoughts also drifting to the phantom raven haired woman mentioned by the man at the bar.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh dear. As always, would love to hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading.<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thank you, thank you, thank you to my reviewers. You guys are absolutely wonderful - I'm glad that you are enjoying this story and are kind enough to take the time to comment. Means a lot.  
><strong>

**Hope everyone's weeks are going alright.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 7<p>

"_Never do wrong when people are looking." _

_Mark Twain _

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Entering into the back lab, I silently step aside Sara and reach out and ruffle her hair.

Looking up at me with a start, Sara shakes her head, trying to put her hair back into place.

She is about as successful at is as she is from hiding the smile playing at her mouth.

"Sorry," I shrug. "Couldn't resist."

Sara rolls her eyes at me, giving up on taming the wayward strands.

"How are things going in here?" I ask her, noting that Sara has disappeared for most of shift to work in her back lab.

I don't think she is purposely avoiding me after our conversation last night at the bar, but I don't think she has exactly gone out of her way to find me, either.

She was quiet when we arrived home last night, and this morning she was called in on a scene before I even woke up. This is the first time I have gotten to see her all day.

I can't express how terrible I feel for what I said to her. What I accused her of.

Sara Sidle, of all people.

"Mostly good," Sara replies, bringing me back to the present. "Just getting a bit frustrated with this one case."

"Yeah?" I question, taking a seat beside her.

Resting my hand on her leg, I am happy when she doesn't pull away.

"Yeah, the scene was supposed to be the primary…" she trails off, staring at the pictures in front of her.

"But you don't agree?" I question, handing her a coffee that it looks like she desperately needs.

"Thanks," she says, sending me a tired smile.

"Sure," I tell her, wishing I could do something more to take the dark circles and the tension away from her.

"Want me to take a look?" I offer instead.

Sara shrugs, "Sure."

Handing me over the pictures in her hand, I look at them closely.

"You're right, Sar. I don't think this is the primary site," I say with a sigh, trying to look at the picture from a different angle. "The drops of blood centered around the vic are uniformly angled outward, which doesn't make sense for weapon cast-off."

Sara puts down her pencil.

"Yeah, I was just hoping I was wrong."

Sending her a sympathetic glance, I take in the images on the rest of the photos displayed across the wall.

"Sorry," I tell her sincerely, hating to see more work piled on to her already obscene caseload. I wasn't the only one with desk loads of work waiting for me when I returned. "Looks like you're headed back out to the scene."

Sara shrugs, characteristically calm about it all.

"Part of the job, right?" she says simply, reminding me once again that Sara is one of the most easygoing people I have ever met.

Even when sleep deprived.

"Want me to join you?" I offer. "I just closed my case and have a bunch of charts to review. Which, I'm not particularly eager to spend my day doing."

Starting to take down the pictures, Sara turns to me with a raised brow.

"Sure."

Smiling at her expression with curiosity, I hand her the photo in my hand.

"What?" I question.

She sends me her own rueful smile.

"Well, it's just, you're my superior," she says. "You don't really have to ask me about joining my scene. Technically, they're all your scenes."

Stepping up close to her with a raised brow, I run my fingers softly up her side.

"Oh? So you would like it better if I didn't ask? Just…_took_…what I wanted?"

Sara's eyes turn a couple shades darker, and I can feel her breathing quicken.

Before I know it, her lips are on mine and I have her backed against the layout table.

Just as my fingers are curling into her hair, she pulls away so that her lips are at my ear.

"You can't take something that's already yours, Miss Willows."

Smiling at her words, I pull back and I can see the love and devotion emanating from her eyes.

I am absolutely relieved to see that Sara doesn't appear to be harboring any ill feelings towards me despite my accusations to her last night.

Admittedly, she seems a bit more rattled today than usual, but her interactions with me have brought nothing but the kind gentleness that I have come to know and love about her.

Leaning in, I place a soft kiss on her lips, my hands holding her waist.

Smiling herself, Sara tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I would love the company, Catherine."

Stepping away, she finishes gathering up the paperwork to put in the case file.

* * *

><p>Walking together down the hall towards the parking lot, Judy flags me down from the front desk.<p>

"Catherine! Someone just dropped off a package for you, can you sign for it?" she asks, holding out a package to me with one hand while trying to type something into her computer with the other.

Handing Sara my kit, I head towards the front desk.

"Meet you in the Tahoe?" I question.

Sara nods, heading outside without a word.

Taking the package from Judy, I raise my brow in curiosity as it appears to be a thin envelope the size of a piece of paper. The part that peaks my curiosity is that there is no return address.

In the line of work that we do, no return addresses are usually an omen pointing directly towards disaster. However, the package is thin enough that I am rather confident that it is at least not going to explode when I open it.

Probably not.

Tearing at the seal as I step out of the lab into the morning sun, I frown as four photos drop out of the package into my hand.

The images have been enlarged, and the subject matter is clear as day.

In my hands, I am holding four 6 by 11 images that distinctly show two women engaged in various stages of intimacy.

Not getting the point of the pictures, or more specifically why in the hell they were sent to me, I take a closer look at the subjects caught on film.

The person facing the camera I do not recognize, her features are quite beautiful but are meaningless to me.

Looking at the other participant, I feel my feet come to a halt and my heart drop to the floor. I, without a shadow of a doubt, recognize the other woman.

The dark brown hair, the lean frame. But most telling of all, the tattoo running up the woman's side.

The tattoo that is in Latin.

Flipping through the rest of the photos, they are only further confirmation that the brunette is Sara.

What also catches my eye, is that her bedmate has black hair.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: What? Say it isn't so… ! As always, thanks for reading and would love to hear your thoughts.<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Thank you to those who reviewed – your interest really keeps the writing flowing. And, really, you have no idea how much your words brighten my day. **

**In regards to last chapter and the chapters to come…I want to assure you all that the characters are in good hands. And there are many more revelations/explanations/confusions yet to come. So stay tuned, things may not end up the way we suspect them to – for better or for worse ;)**

**Hope everyone is doing well and that you have a good weekend.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 8<p>

"_All my life I believed I knew something. But then one strange day came when I realized that I knew nothing, yes, I knew nothing."_

_Ezra Pound _

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Entering the passenger seat of Sara's Tahoe, she instantly picks up on the fact that something is wrong.

That something is _very_ wrong.

"Catherine?"

I can't begin to form words.

Hell, I cannot even bring myself to look at her at this point.

Everything I ever thought I knew about Sara Sidle was apparently a lie.

So much for being the most honest and trustworthy person I thought I ever knew – the self-sacrificing woman who I thought would do anything necessary to keep me from getting hurt.

This goes beyond betrayal.

"Catherine? Are you alright?" she questions.

Finally, I look into her eyes.

The same eyes that once held so much promise for me, so much comfort.

Now, I wonder what else is being hidden behind that emerald gaze.

"No, I'm not alright."

Furrowing her brows, Sara reaches out to place her hand on my arm.

"Don't you dare," I nearly growl at her.

Pulling back her hand as if she had been slapped, she looks at me, her expression confused, worried.

"Ca-"

"No. Do not even say my name," I seethe.

Her brows furrow, her gaze now traveling to the opened package in my hands.

It's obvious to her that things changed when I got hold of this package.

"What's going on?" she asks with concern.

Shaking my head, I open the car door.

"You know what, I'm not really feeling up to joining you at your scene," I grind out, my voice cold. "I'm sure you can handle it on your own."

Her gaze follows my actions as I step out of the car.

Walking away, I hear her car door shoved open and she is at my side mere steps later.

"Ca…shit, please stop. What happened?" she questions desperately, trying to obey my demand to not use my name.

Turning to face her, I register the hurt, the worry in her eyes and it only makes me feel more disdain for this woman that I thought I knew.

Well, knew as much as she would let me.

I now wonder if I ever really knew anything about Sara Sidle at all.

Shaking my head, I turn away in disgust.

"You know what, Sara, I honestly can't even look at you right now," I tell her darkly, seriously. "Just get in your Tahoe and go to your scene."

"Ple-"

"Now, Sara!" I snap, spinning on my heels. "That's a direct order. Disobey me and I will have you fired."

Her eyes narrow and she takes a step away from me, caught off guard by my words. My tone.

I don't think I have ever spoken to her with a tone of such hatred in my voice. Not even in all the years we spent fighting with one another when she first moved to Vegas had I ever used a tone as dark as this.

Moments of tense silence pass, and I spend them all staring past her into the distance.

"Okay," I eventually hear her whisper.

I can feel her eyes on me as she assesses me one final time before taking a deep breath and obeying my demand to walk away.

To walk away from this conversation. To walk away from me.

Sending me one last forlorn glance, she closes her car door and starts the engine.

Following with my eyes as her car pulls out onto the road, I idly hope that she isn't too upset to drive safely.

Then, catching myself at what I am thinking, I force myself not to care about someone who I now know with blinding clarity has absolutely no regard for me.

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

"Flynn, visitor."

Looking up from my chart, I acknowledge my supervisor, as well as her displeased tone. It's not often that people visit me at work, but my supervisor is not very subtle in her attempt to warn me against making it a habit.

"Thanks," I mutter, quickly making my way out of the tense atmosphere and out into the busy hallway.

Smiling distractedly at a patient of mine as I pass him in the hall, my gaze is focused on my visitor standing against the doors to my unit.

Catherine's posture immediately has me on edge, along with the fact that she has only once visited me during work hours – and that was when she came by to tell me that our father had been shot and killed.

"Catherine?" I question, my concern growing as she turns to meet me with bloodshot eyes.

"Come on…" I tell her, leading her to an empty supply room and closing the door behind us.

"What's going on? Are you alright? Is Sara alright?" I ask the instant the door clicks shut.

At the mention of Sara's name, my sister drops her gaze from mine, and her breathing picks up.

Placing my hand worriedly on her arm, I try to make her eyes meet mine.

"What happened, Catherine?"

My heart is racing in my chest, and the pace only quickens with each passing moment that my sister remains silent.

Without a word, she hands me an envelope. Staring at her in confusion, I waste no time reaching into the envelope for some answers.

Pulling out four photographs, I look at them in confusion as the subject matter becomes clear to me.

Looking up, I return my gaze to my sister, "I don't get it…"

"Look at the pictures, Nancy."

Looking closer at the photographs in confusion, I feel like my heart literally has stopped when I get what it is that she wants me to see.

Holy hell.

"Tell me you didn't know," my sister demands, looking at me with an expression riddled with anguish. "Please, tell me you didn't fucking know."

Immediately, my hand returns to her arm. "I didn't know, Catherine."

Looking back down at the photos in disbelief, I mutter "Of course I didn't know."

Turning over the envelope, I realize that this was sent to Catherine at work anonymously.

"What did Sara say?" I ask, half terrified to hear the answer. Part of me is still in denial, and to talk about the situation is only making it more real.

I don't know how to cope with losing my best friend in under 0.3 seconds.

Finally meeting my eyes, Catherine shakes her head. "I didn't tell her about the photos. I pretty much told her off without telling her why. I just couldn't…I couldn't come to terms with what I was seeing quickly enough. I still can't make sense of it, Nance. This is _Sara_ we are talking about."

Sighing, I shake my own head.

"I don't get it, Cath. Of all the people who I could picture cheating on someone, Sara isn't one of them. Do you know that these were taken during the time when you two were together?"

Catherine runs her fingers through her hair, "The time stamp is from last week."

Looking down, I see that she is right.

Fuck.

"Timestamps can be faked," I offer, trying to keep all options open. Trying to keep this nightmare from becoming a reality.

"Yes, but scars can't," Catherine counters.

Confused, I look back down at the picture. Then, almost immediately her meaning becomes clear. In one of the shots, Sara's arm is angled in such a way that the edge of the scar on her shoulder is visible to the camera located somewhere behind her.

The scar that she most definitely got when my sister and her were already very much together.

Fuck again.

"Pictures can be faked," I try, knowing the things people can do with image programs these days are absolutely baffling.

Shaking her head, Catherine closes her eyes briefly.

"It was the first thing I checked before I came here. Pixel concentration is consistent throughout in all of the pictures. No alterations."

"Fuck," I finally offer aloud.

"There's something else," she tells me, looking at me with heavy eyes.

"There was a man at Spurs the other night. He told me that Sara has been there with another woman. I didn't want to believe him, and Sara denied it all."

Letting out a breath, her eyes close. "He told me she was there with a woman with black hair, Nancy."

I don't need to look at the pictures again to know where she is going with this. It appears now that this may have been something more than a one night stand.

Holy hell.

"Catherine…" I start, before quickly realizing that I have no clue what to say.

I mean, really, what is there to say at a time like this?

Shaking her head, Catherine sends me a gentle smile. "I know."

Nodding, I pull her in for a hug, holding her close as I feel the tension in her body literally making her shake.

"Do you still have the guest room available at your house?" she mutters, sounding exhausted and empty.

"Of course," I answer, holding her close.

Shaking my head, I can only hold her, my body numb, my mouth speechless, and my thoughts stunned.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As always, thanks for reading. Love to hear your thoughts.<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: First of all, I just want to say WOW - you guys have absolutely blown me away with your response to the last chapter. I have really enjoyed reading all of your thoughts/comments. I hope you continue to share them with me. And yes, I'm sorry that I apparently like to rip out people's emotions and step on them for awhile...hmmm...;)**

**A lot of you have expressed concern about whether Sara will be revealed to be a cheater or not...all I have to say to you is stay tuned, all the way through. This journey will indeed be long, and I think there may be a good deal of twists and turns throughout. Some answers may really just be questions in disguise.  
><strong>

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 9<p>

"_In a controversy the instant we feel anger we have already ceased striving for the truth, and have begun striving for ourselves." _

_Thomas Carlyle_

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

Finally answering my phone after the fourth call, I step outside onto my front lawn.

"What?"

"Nancy…thank God…what the hell is going on…is Catherine alright?" I can hear the fear in Sara's voice, and I almost feel bad.

Almost.

"No, Sara, she's not alright. She's asleep right now at my house."

I can hear Sara exhale, her breath shaky.

"Nancy, please, she won't answer my calls," she gets out. "Please tell me what the hell is going on."

I have never heard Sara express this much emotion. I would rejoice in the idea of Sara not censoring herself for once, but I don't think I will find myself rejoicing about anything related to Sara Sidle any time soon.

"I think it's best if I meet you somewhere to talk about this, Sara."

I can literally hear the thoughts making their way through Sara's head as she takes in my response.

"You don't want me at your house. Near her."

Taking a breath, I answer truthfully, "No, I don't."

"Okay," she gives in without further comment. "Where do we meet?"

"The park on Wellshire. Meet me in the back lot near the trail head."

I'm sure it's obvious to Sara that I have picked one of the most secluded spots in the entire city. A spot no one will be within miles of at this hour of the night.

"See you there," she states simply and promptly hangs up.

* * *

><p>My lights cut across the isolated lot as I turn haphazardly into an empty space, not caring in the least if my car is centered between the lines.<p>

Looking out my window, I take a breath as I realize Sara has beaten me here. She is standing aside the hood of her car, hands tensely fidgeting with her keys.

Stepping out into the night, I make my way towards her Tahoe, stopping a couple yards away.

Sara takes a few steps forward as well, stopping at a distance that is adequate to have a conversation but no closer than is necessary.

I can't help but feel like I'm acting in some Vegas version of West Side Story.

Sara's expression is hard to read, but the worry there is clear as day.

Deciding that there is no point in dragging this out longer than necessary, I hand her the envelope that single handedly destroyed my sister only hours before.

Opening it without a word, Sara angles it towards the moonlight in order to make out the images in the photos.

Narrowing her eyes confusedly, I can see the moment that the subject matter becomes clear to her.

"What is this…?" she trails off, looking at me as if I have just told her the Earth is flat.

"Nancy, what the hell is this?" she demands again when I remain silent.

"I think you should be the one telling _me_ what the fuck that is," my voice is cold, and I'm sure my expression matches.

Shaking her head, Sara studies the pictures as if this is her first time encountering the scene. Which is ironic, since she is clearly one of its leading stars.

"I don't get it…" she mutters.

"You don't _get_ it?" I yell, no longer able to hold back. "You're fucking another woman, Sara! In case you needed someone to spell it out for you!"

Looking up at me, her eyes flash at my words.

Then, she looks back down, trying to comprehend the scenes depicted before her, sifting through the photos, her eyes narrowed in confusion as she flips from one to another to another and then back again.

"I don't…" she trails off, her jaw clenching tightly, her head shaking slowly.

Seeing her confused expression, I shake my own head.

"What, are you going to deny it?" I scoff, appalled. "Are you going to try to tell me those pictures are faked? That the person there with your tattoo and your scars is someone else?"

She doesn't respond, her body rigid as her eyes stare down at the pictures in her hands.

"Fine," I state with a cold shrug. "Tell me you never slept with that woman," I demand, my eyes boring into her until she looks up at me.

The moments that follow are painfully tense, no one speaking, no one even breathing.

Finally, Sara's fiery gaze drops from mine.

As soon as it does, I snort in disgust.

"That's what I thought," I mutter darkly. "You…God, I don't even know where to start…"

Sara remains silent, now holding the photos like they are radioactive and she wants nothing more than to be rid of them.

"How long has it been going on?" I demand.

Looking up at me, she shakes her head.

"How long?"

When she remains silent, I step forward, clearly placing myself in her personal space, ripping the photos from her hand.

Fixing her with a look, I don't back down as I watch her gaze slowly turn away.

"I don't know," she finally responds, her tone empty.

"Answer the fucking question, Sara. I think you owe me at least that much."

Her jaw tightens.

"I said I don't know."

Finally losing my flimsy grip on my temper, I step forward so that I have her backed up against her car.

"Sara…how _long_?" I seethe.

Sara places her hands behind her on the car, and I swear she is doing it to resist the urge to physically push me away.

"I don't know, Nancy," she repeats yet again, this time her tone holding its own edge.

Looking at her in bewilderment, I shake my head.

"Catherine told me about the guy at the bar who has seen you two there together," I warn. "This wasn't a onetime fling, Sara! Don't you _dare_ lie to me!"

"I'm not lying, Nancy," she replies, her voice low and so very tightly controlled.

Something about her tone, her continued refusal to give me the answers that I more than deserve, that my sister more than deserves, makes me snap.

Grabbing her by the shirt, I push her shoulders flush against her car door, feeling some morbid sense of satisfaction when her head connects solidly with the driver side window.

"You made her believe that you loved her, and you made me believe that you were my friend. How dare you?" I spit through clenched teeth.

She doesn't respond, her head angled away from me as her jaw clenches tightly, her body absolutely rigid under my fingers.

Neither one of us moves, speaks, our breathing the only sound interrupting the still night.

"Fine," I grind out with one final shove, no longer able to take the silence. "Keep your fucking secrets, Sara."

Taking my hands off her, I fix a firm gaze on her instead, my body still within mere inches of her own.

"Keep your goddamn secrets because, quite frankly, I don't ever want to see you again," I state slowly and clearly into the cold night, continuing to watch her as my words hang in the tense air around us.

With one final disgusted shake of my head, I turn to make my way to my car.

Ripping the driver door open, I hesitate for just a moment as I pull my key from my pocket.

Hand hovering near the frame, I don't turn around to say this last part to her.

I don't have to. I know she's there, I know she's listening.

"And, trust me when I say this, Sara, you better stay the hell away from my sister."

* * *

><p>"<em>It is impossible to begin to learn that which one thinks one already knows." <em>

_Epictetus _

CATHERINE POV

Pulling into work the next morning, I turn off my engine, staring numbly at the cement blockade in front of the hood.

Despite an entire sleepless night to think about it, dwell on it, I still can't believe what has happened. I can't believe what now faces me in the building that used to feel like my second home.

What faces me is no longer a job that I love with a woman that I love. It's a building that instead holds the one person who had the power to destroy me, and the one person who unfortunately decided to make use of that power.

Shaking my head, I grab my bag from the passenger seat, knowing that I cannot spend the entire shift in my car, much as I would like to.

Opening my door, I step out into the darkness and chill of the early morning, taking a deep breath and straightening my blouse.

Hardening myself for what lies ahead, I nearly drop my bag when I see the exact person I was praying I would have the fortune to avoid.

Standing near the wall across from me is Sara, hands shoved deep in her pockets against the cold as she watches me from aside her own car. It's clear that she has been waiting for me to arrive.

Stepping slowly forward, she looks around to make sure that we are alone.

Seeing that we have the privacy that this encounter deserves, she comes to a stop about fifteen feet away from me.

Neither one of us says anything, both not sure of our first move.

Finally, Sara shakes her head, forcing her eyes not to look away from mine.

"I'm sorry," she says into the space between us, the genuine pain in her voice evident. "I am so sorry."

She says nothing more, and she is met with only silence in return.

Standing this way for another minute or so, Sara takes a deep breath and nods her head, taking the hint that I don't want or have anything to say anything to her.

Turning to leave me in peace, I watch her take a couple steps before calling her back.

When she turns around to face me, I look at her.

I really look at her.

I look at the woman that I had entrusted my heart to, the woman who I had loved so deeply.

The woman who I had thought loved me back.

Looking in her eyes, all I can see now are those pictures.

Those pictures of her with that other woman's hands all over her.

Her hands all over that woman.

I know, no matter what, I will never be able to look at her again without seeing those images.

Clenching my fists, I shake my head darkly.

"I don't want your apologies," I warn her. "You don't get to apologize to me as if that somehow makes it better. Nothing in this world could ever make this better."

Sara only continues to stand there, her eyes coloring with pain but her mouth remaining silent.

"You've destroyed me," I somehow get out. "You've destroyed everything that was good in my life."

Averting my eyes briefly, I try to keep my emotions from consuming me.

"This is the last time you will ever bring up what happened with us," I tell her sternly, fixing my gaze back on hers. "There _is_ no us anymore_._ It's over. We're over."

I readjust my bag on my shoulder, shoving my car keys into my pocket.

"I want you to stay out of my life," I tell her firmly. "I'm asking you, as one human being to another, not to talk to me, not to even _look_ at me, unless it's about a case."

I meet her gaze sharply with my own. "I mean it."

Sara remains quiet, watching me with eyes brimming with words I will not let her speak, with emotions she will not let herself express.

Nodding silently, she starts to turn towards the lab.

"I wish I never met you," I whisper into the thick silence between our two bodies, the words echoing through the empty lot around us.

"Help me God, Sara Sidle, I wish I never met you."

Pausing with her back to me, Sara remains completely still, her head bowed under the weight of my words.

Then, taking in a breath, she turns her head to look at me over her shoulder. Forcing her eyes to meet with mine, she slowly nods, her eyes heavy with pain.

Turning back around without a word, she steps further into the darkness to make her way into the lab.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Thank you all who have reviewed - I appreciate it more than you know. **

**I greatly enjoyed hearing your guys' theories about what is going on - especially when they include Sara being a pod person or shapeshifter (sbz, I thoroughly enjoyed reading your various theories and the arguments for and against each) :) **

**Hope you are all doing well and that you continue to enjoy the story.**

**Take care.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 10<p>

"_If you stand straight, do not fear a crooked shadow." _

_Chinese proverb_

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"Hey," Nancy greets me as I enter the house, placing my keys on the table near the door.

"Hey yourself," I offer, stepping around the couch to take a seat next to her. "How was your day?"

Nancy shrugs, moving her eyes briefly up from the page in her book. "It was good."

"Good," I reply, reaching over to grab the remote and turn on the TV.

"How about you?" she asks, looking me over.

"It was good."

"Good."

Neither one of us says anything more, both recognizing that this interaction between us right now is more than awkward but not really knowing what to say or do about it.

Giving me one last glance, Nancy takes a breath and returns her attention to her book.

I, in turn, try to pay attention to whatever the hell it is that I am watching on TV.

Eventually, after about a good fifteen minutes, I cannot take it anymore and I let out a sigh.

"Want me to turn it down?" I ask, watching as my sister looks over at me in surprise.

"Huh?"

"The TV," I clarify, gesturing with my hand. "I can turn it down if you like?"

Shaking her head, Nancy looks confused. "No, it's fine."

"You sure?" I tentatively ask, gesturing to the book in her lap.

"I'm good," she assures me.

"Nancy, you haven't turned a page in nearly ten minutes," I finally state, calling her out.

Looking down, Nancy sighs before placing her novel down. Running her hands through her hair, she lets out a breath.

"I'm sorry," she tells me quietly. "I guess I'm just a bit lost in thought."

I nod, already knowing that was the case before I even asked.

"Want to talk about it?" I offer.

Looking me over, Nancy eventually shakes her head.

"No, it's alright. Just stuff with work."

"Hmm," I hum knowingly. "And here I would have bet good money you were thinking about a certain brunette that we both know."

Looking over in surprise, Nancy is clearly at a loss for what to say in response.

"It's alright," I tell her sincerely. "You can talk about her with me."

"Catherine…" Nancy starts, shaking her head.

"No," I tell her. "I mean it. We've both been avoiding the entire topic long enough, pretending like nothing happened."

Nancy looks me over, her eyes assessing me.

"Do _you_ want to talk, Catherine?" she offers sincerely.

I think about it, eventually shrugging. "Maybe. Probably."

Then, I let out a breath, tracing the edge of the TV remote with my fingers. "I just don't think I would even know where to start to be honest," I confess.

Nancy nods knowingly, her eyes moving to take in the news reporter on the screen.

"That's my problem as well."

We both sit a bit more in silence, but this time the silence isn't as oppressive as at least we both have stopped pretending like everything is fine when it so clearly isn't.

"Did you see her today?" Nancy asks quietly.

I nod, taking in a breath. "Yeah, this morning. She was waiting for me in the parking lot."

Nancy clenches her jaw, trying hard to remain impartial about the situation. To let my own feelings dictate this conversation, not hers.

"What happened?" she questions.

"She apologized," I tell her as the man on the television warns of a winter storm headed towards southern Nevada.

"And?" Nancy gently probes.

"And I told her to stay out of my life."

Nancy lets out a breath, "I don't know what to say here, Catherine. I'm just so sorry…I can't imagine what you must be going through right now."

"Sure you can," I counter. "You were in love with someone, planning to marry someone, and they ended up being a totally different person than you thought they were."

Nancy slowly turns her head, taking in my words. Then, suddenly, a particular portion of my words registers with her and her eyes jerk to mine.

"Wait, Catherine…" she starts, trailing off. "You…"

Her statement draws to a stop, her mouth unable to form the words to match the thoughts running through her head.

"We talked about getting married," I confirm, watching as my sister's eyes close with a grimace. "During the trip to Utah."

"Catherine…" she starts, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry…my God…"

I nod, watching weather maps transform our country to blotchy shades of green and red.

"I think that's what gets me the most," I confess. "That we were talking about _marrying_ one another, and meanwhile she's sleeping with someone else."

Shaking her head, Nancy tugs at the cover of her book. "I didn't understand it before, Cath. But I certainly don't understand it now."

"I just can't believe that after everything, all the things we have been through together, that this is how it ends between us," I tell her quietly.

If I'm honest, I always feared in my heart of hearts that I would lose her, that our love was simply something too beautiful and too perfect for this world to allow to exist for any real length of time.

I secretly always felt that way, but I always assumed that someone else would be our undoing. Some suspect who returns to a scene with a gun, some driver who isn't paying attention and plows into our Tahoe, some disaster that befalls Sara while running in the pitch black hours of the morning.

But never, not once, did I ever think that the actions of one of us would create our own undoing.

And, to be truthful, out of the two of us, I especially never thought it would be Sara.

Not the Sara that I thought I knew, at least. The Sara that puts everyone in her life before herself. The woman who endangers her own life protecting the people that she loves. Even people that she doesn't know, as I am reminded of every time I see her limp.

The only faults I ever found in Sara were that she did _too _much for those in her life. That she never took the time to put herself first, always prioritizing the needs of others while neglecting her own.

I saw her as a selfless, compassionate, gentle woman who stands by those that she cares about, protecting and supporting them through whatever may come.

Now, knowing what I now know, I am having the hardest time adjusting myself to this new person that Sara revealed herself to be.

I thought that Sara and I were on the verge of _marrying_ one another, opening a new chapter in our lives. Now, instead, our relationship has come to a crashing and jarring halt.

I don't know if I can get over this, I don't know if I can ever adjust to a life without her. I've felt the potential of our love, the depths to which I could feel for another human being, and I quite honestly don't know where I go from here.

Sara had my heart and soul, she had all of me.

What is left of my life, what is left of my own self, without her?

"I'm so sorry, Catherine," I hear Nancy say quietly, reaching out to take hold of my hand, wiping at tears that I didn't even realize had fallen with the other. "I'm so, so sorry."

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

Pulling up the drive to my sister's former house, I don't know whether I am happy or upset when I see Sara's car in the drive.

Part of me was wishing she wouldn't be home so I could say I tried and move on.

But I know, deep down, that I need to do this, I need to get answers from Sara before any of us can move on from this horrible nightmare.

Stepping out, I notice that there is a towel over the railing, a clear sign that Sara is out for a run.

Before I can make my way up the drive, I hear Mesa approaching from the street below.

Looking up at me, Mesa offers a slim wag of the tail before heading to the porch. If I didn't know better, I'd say that he's giving me the cold shoulder in as polite a way as possible.

Turning, I see Sara standing at the bottom of the drive, eyes furrowing somewhat as she glances in my direction.

"Hey," I offer, letting her know that I am not here to start screaming at her like last time.

She may deserve it, but this time I'm hoping to have a much more productive conversation than me losing my temper and shouting in her face.

"Hey."

Gesturing towards the porch as way of invitation, she makes her way up the drive, removing her towel from the rail.

Following her lead, I stand at the top of the steps.

Taking a drink of water, Sara waits silently for me to get to the reason that I'm here. Especially since I made it abundantly clear the last time we spoke that I wanted nothing to do with her ever again.

"I need to talk to you," I say, breaking the silence while trying to keep my expression neutral and my various emotions in check.

"Okay," she responds, her own expression more guarded than I have seen it in a long time.

"Look, I don't want to be here," I tell her honestly. "I would much rather just write you off as a cheating bitch and move on with my life."

I sigh, running my hand through my hair.

"But you saved my life, Sara. In the desert. You shot and killed Chris for me," I tell her. "I feel like I at least owe you an honest chance to explain yourself before I move on. Before I help Catherine move on. That way I have no regret, no guilt about turning my back on someone who sacrificed so much for me."

"You don't owe me anything," she responds simply, her voice holding nothing but sincerity.

"I just don't get it, Sara," I sigh, my head shaking in defeat. "I don't get how the same person who would easily lay down her life for my sister could hurt her like this. It doesn't make sense to me. Especially not when I learn you and her were talking about marriage."

Sara doesn't respond, her fingers running tensely back and forth across the plastic label on her water bottle.

"Please, Sara. Help me understand," I breathe out. "Tell me something, tell me _anything_, to make this make sense."

Rubbing her temples, she sets her water down on the rail.

"Nancy, if you came here for answers you should leave," she says quietly. "Because, like I told you the other night, I don't have any."

Turning to face me, her eyes are heavy.

"I truly don't."

I watch her for a moment, neither one of us moving.

"Did you know her? That woman?" I ask.

"No."

I take this in, searching her eyes with my own.

"Are you going to try to tell me you didn't sleep with her?" I question with a dark note to my voice.

"No."

Calming my emotions, I step slightly closer to Sara.

"You admit to sleeping with her, but you claim you have no idea who she is," I verify, my eyes fixed on hers.

"Yes."

Shaking my head with a sigh, I can't help but feel like I am conversing with a wall.

"You have to work with me here, Sara," I tell her. "I'm trying to hear your side of things, but you need to give me more than one word answers."

Sara pinches the bridge of her nose.

For the first time, I realize that her hands are shaking.

"Please, Sara."

She is silent in response, and I am about to give up, walk off this porch and out of her life for good when her posture shifts.

"I went to a bar one night about a week ago and had a few drinks," she confesses, shifting her weight to her other leg. "Alone."

Clenching the rail tight in her hand, her eyes shut briefly.

"That's all I remember," she breathes out. "The next morning I woke up in a hotel room that I didn't even remember going to. I grabbed my stuff and left."

Sara's voice grows lower, darker.

"I had no clue what the hell happened that night, but I'd just assumed I'd gotten the room so I could sleep it off there instead of going home and disturbing Catherine," she explains.

Her fingers have gone pale from the force with which she is gripping the wooden railing.

"I certainly didn't know, didn't even _suspect_, that there had been someone else there with me," she gets out. "No idea that I had…that we had…"

Trailing off, Sara shakes her head with revulsion, turning her gaze away from me, unable to get the words out nor to look at me as she tries.

"What about the guy who saw you two together at the bar?" I counter.

"That's the part I really don't get," she says, returning her pained eyes to mine. "I have not been seeing that woman at any goddamn bar on a regular basis. I have not been seeing that woman _period_."

She takes a shaky breath.

"What we apparently did…that night…it was a one time thing," she forces out, looking like the words are dangerously close to making her physically sick.

I fix my gaze with hers, assessing her as she stands there tensely, her features stark and pale.

"You honestly don't remember anything from that night?" I ask one final time.

Shaking her head, she clenches her jaw in frustrated resignation.

"I honestly don't."

Shaking my own head, I feel a small amount of tension leave my body. At least Sara hadn't been maliciously cheating on my sister this whole time. Not according to her, that is.

"Do you think someone slipped you something?" I ask cautiously, trying to figure out what could have happened that night.

I honestly don't know what to believe at this point, but the idea of Sara being slipped some sort of drug makes a hell of a lot more sense than her ever willingly sleeping with another woman.

Turning from me, she stares darkly out into the yard.

"No."

Her answer is honest, but as I watch her profile I get the distinct feeling that there is something more that she isn't telling me. I can practically see it hanging unspoken in the tense air between us.

"Sara," I start, my eyes narrowing in suspicion.

When she doesn't respond, I step closer.

"Sara, look at me," I demand.

After a few moments, her gaze finally meets my own but I can tell she is having a hard time keeping it there.

"I want to help you," I tell her firmly. "But to do that I need you to be completely honest with me. What aren't you saying?"

Sara shakes her head, her body defensive.

"Don't, Nancy," she forces out.

Closing my eyes, I let out a breath before pining them back on her.

"Isn't Catherine worth fighting for?" I question her seriously. "Are you really willing to lose her over a night, a one night stand you can't remember?"

"It doesn't matter what I do or don't remember," she bites out, finally losing her tightly held composure. "All that matters is what I did. There's nothing else anyone needs to know."

My voice gets softer, "But what if someone slipped you something, Sara? What if that night wasn't consensual?"

I hate to even think about the possibility.

"You mean, what if I was raped?" she questions tightly.

"Yes."

"I wasn't."

I narrow my eyes further.

"No offense, but if you don't know what the hell happened that night, why is the option of rape off the table?" I counter bluntly.

Her expression darkening, her voice gets low.

"Because it is."

"Fine, then how else do you explain your going out for a drink and not remembering a damn thing from the night?" I ask seriously.

Her expression remains dark, but there is definitely another undercurrent there now as well.

For some unknown reason, I begin to get a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Sara…?"

The moment I say her name, the last of her defenses jerk into place, her body tense and stiff. Her gaze, when it meets mine, is so guarded, so unreadable, that I feel myself cringe.

Seeing her eyes this guarded, her body this defensive, my bad feeling only multiplies. Now I am definitely worried.

"I told you everything I know, Nancy," she says stoically. "Drop it and let your sister move on."

"There's something going on that you aren't telling me," I state firmly, shaking my head as I step towards her. "If you're in trouble, Sara, then let me help you."

Every one of my steps forward Sara matches with her own step back.

"I don't need your help."

Watching her literally pulling away from me right before my eyes, I stop trying to approach her, not able to handle seeing her backing away from me.

"What you're doing right now, Sara," I say to her quietly, "The way you're closing yourself off, it just proves to me that there's something wrong."

Sara doesn't respond, her dark gaze holding so much, yet giving absolutely nothing away.

I wait a few moments in the awkward silence between us, waiting for her to say something, say anything, when I know with confidence that she never will.

Clearing my throat, I keep our eyes locked.

"You may be willing to accept things the way they are, to let our relationship and your relationship with Catherine fall apart without a fight," I tell her, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm not."

Eyes flashing to mine in anger, Sara tightens her jaw but remains silent.

"I'm going to figure out what's going on. With or without your help." Our heated gazes remain fixed. "That's a promise."

I keep my position, letting her see for herself how adamant I am about getting answers, regardless of her willingness to supply them.

Then, with one final glance, I grab my keys from my pocket.

As I descend from the porch and approach my car, I have my hand on the door when I hear Sara's voice.

"Nancy," she calls from her place at the top of the steps, finally breaking her silence.

Her gaze is intense when my eyes meet with hers, her features stoic.

"Take care of her. Please."

I nod without hesitation, knowing exactly who she is talking about.

Without another word, I get into my car and make my way home.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Some answers perhaps, some more questions perhaps. Thanks for reading.<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: You guys are beyond amazing...thanks for the continued sharing of your thoughts/theories! So happy you guys are willing to take the time to review. Means a lot.**

**Hope you are all doing well and your weeks are starting off on a good note.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 11<p>

_"A word carries far - very far - deals destruction through time as the bullets go flying through space." _

_Joseph Conrad _

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Today my luck ran out. After successfully avoiding Sara for the better part of this week, I finally have to face her.

This shift, we have a case together.

Our first case since we broke up.

Looking down at the assignment slip, as if staring at it long enough will make the words change, I eventually sigh.

"Nick, where are you and Greg at on the 419 at WLVU?" I ask, keeping my gaze away from the brunette standing silently by the sink.

"I'm about to head back out to the scene. Greg's already at the college interviewing some more of the teachers," he answers, swallowing the coffee in his hand. "Hopefully we'll get lucky and find someone who saw something, otherwise we're gonna be in a rough spot."

Nodding, I let out a breath.

"Sounds good, keep me updated."

"Of course," he offers, sending Sara and I an oblivious smile before tossing his cup in the trash and heading out the door.

Sara doesn't comment, doesn't move, keeping her gaze averted to let me have control of the situation.

Just like she has every day so far.

I wish today I could simply tell her to continue working on her cases or send her out solo like I have every other morning since we broke up.

With another sigh, I shake my head.

"We have a scene."

Looking up in surprise, Sara glances briefly at me, taking in my words.

Then, she averts her gaze again, turning to rinse her mug in the sink.

"Okay."

Watching her back, I close my eyes briefly before she turns back around.

When she does, our eyes finally meet, and it's all I can do to keep myself together.

"Meet you in the car."

Without another word to her, I leave the room.

* * *

><p>Looking over towards Sara as she drives, I can't get over how suffocating it feels to be in the same car with her.<p>

In addition to our morning assignments, I had caught glimpses of her here and there in the lab the last couple work days, passing her in the hall or looking into a lab to find her at work at a layout table.

In those moments it was hard, trying to keep my eyes averted, trying to keep my heart from hammering out of my chest just from looking at her.

Now, alone with her in such a small, enclosed space for a significant period of time, I feel downright nervous.

Sara hasn't said anything since we got in the car, but despite the sunglasses masking her expression, I can tell that she feels the same tension that is making it hard for me to breathe.

Steeling myself, I allow myself to truly look her over for the first time since we broke up. Allow my eyes to remain on her for more than a passing glance.

As my gaze travels the length of her body, I find it strange to think that this is the woman I was so intimately involved with not so long ago.

In many ways, she looks exactly the same. But, in others, she is so very different.

She's lost weight, for one thing.

She was too thin before all this happened, but now she is downright gaunt.

There is also a guardedness to her posture, a barricade up around her that I haven't seen since the time before we were together.

She's adopted a bit of the old Sara back into herself, the Sara that had hardened herself against a world set to betray her at any moment, a world that had anything but her best interests at heart.

Which, I now find ironic, because in _my _world, she has embodied the role of the betrayer, not the betrayed.

In _my _world, she's the Judas.

As my eyes return to her face, her stark and hollowed features, part of me feels relieved to learn that our separation appears to have been just as hard on her as it has on me.

"Take the next left," I instruct, hating the way I put so much effort into calculating my tone to convey the perfect amount of disregard with the perfect amount of professionalism.

My dark companion doesn't say anything, silently directing the Tahoe across traffic according to my directions.

As I reassess the situation after a few more miles together, I realize that, while the situation is tense, it is also strangely cathartic.

After avoiding each other for so long and trying to get assigned with every other CSI possible, it is somewhat nice to finally be forced to get our first case together since our break up over with.

After all, we are both professionals who are going to have to work with each other at some point.

And work with each other civilly.

"Catherine?"

Sara's gentle prompt pulls me from my thoughts and I realize that we are approaching another fork in this very long desert road.

"Go to the right."

Again, Sara directs the car without a word. She is uneasy, but at the same time she still has the same calm and collected demeanor that is so uniquely her.

"It's going to be the third house from the end."

"Okay."

Sara pulls the car over to a stop in front of the specified house and cuts the engine. As she reaches out to open her door, I stop her motions with a hand on her arm.

Startled by the unexpected contact, she pulls away.

"Sorry," she says an awkward moment later, upset with herself for her involuntary reaction to my touch.

"It's alright," I tell her.

"Look, Sara," I state after a moment, knowing I have to say something to her.

That I cannot let this awkward silence continue to dictate our every interaction, at least not at a crime scene where we owe it to the victim to put our personal lives aside for the sake of the case.

I am the superior in this situation, and something needs to be said.

"I don't want things to be so uncomfortable between us," I state honestly. "We can't do our jobs if we're tiptoeing around each other afraid to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing."

Nodding, Sara's face is unreadable.

"Agreed."

I sigh, knowing there is still a lot I haven't made up my mind about regarding Sara. But, there is one thing of which I am certain.

"I don't hate you, Sara," I tell her honestly, letting out a sigh. "As much as I've tried to, I don't and I don't think I ever will. I loved you too much for that. I'm hurt. I'm angry. But what happened is over and done with and I just want to move on. And I certainly don't want to let what happened between us personally affect us professionally."

Sara turns away, her eyes closing in what almost appears to be pain.

Turning back to me after a moment, she offers me her best attempt at a casual nod.

"Okay."

Realizing that I am talking to Sara Sidle and am likely not to get more of a response than what I have already gotten, I send her a forced smile of my own.

"Okay."

Stepping out of the car, I truly hope that somehow Sara and I can move on from all of this. That I can move on from this deep sense of loss that threatens to consume me merely by sitting next to her in a goddamn car.

* * *

><p>SARA POV<p>

Loved.

She said she 'loved' me.

Past tense.

As in 'loved', but no longer 'loves' me.

I will love Catherine Willows until the day that I die.

Present tense.

But then again, Catherine didn't cheat on me. Perhaps infidelity has a way of dampening one's allure.

I just can't get the word 'loved' out of my head. All day working at that scene, in the car ride home, it just kept repeating over and over and over and over and over.

I don't think she even realized that she said it or that my world as I knew it came crashing to a halt the moment that it left her lips.

I know it's not fair for me to feel so grieved at the fact that she no longer loves me. I mean, after all, what did I expect after what I did?

But it still hurts.

Especially because I feel like no matter what Catherine could ever do to me, part of me would always still love her.

Grabbing the bottle of tequila off the edge of the fire pit, I finish off what is left.

Before I am even conscious of what I am doing, I hear the bottle shatter against the nearest rock, shards of glass skittering through the air before falling to the yard below.

Leaning forward, I run a hand through my hair, grabbing the tangled tresses in a fist.

"Fuck it all to hell," I mutter, swallowing against the tightness in my throat.

Reaching over, I grab an unopened bottle from the chair next to me, not even looking at the label before pulling off the cap.

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

Glancing around me, I don't see Sara anywhere. Trying the front door, I find it locked, and no one answers when I knock.

Letting out a breath, I run my fingers through my hair, essentially at a loss for what to do.

Sara's car is in the drive, so there aren't really many places she could be.

Looking to my left, I catch sight of the trail leading through the back of the neighborhood. Deciding it's as good a place to start as any, I begin walking, wishing I had thought to bring some water.

Sun blazing down on my shoulders as it peaks above the mountains, I only wish the bright rays would do something to lift the chill in the air.

Shielding my eyes from the harsh glare of the early morning light, I do a double take when I spot a figure ahead after about a mile.

To be honest, I didn't really expect to find Sara at all, let alone on my first try.

Reaching what appears to be an old train trestle, I carefully approach the brunette sitting and staring at the drop below.

"Sara?" I question cautiously, not wanting to startle her when she is sitting atop the railing as she is.

Turning slightly, Sara casts a glance over her shoulder before turning back around.

"What are you doing here?" she questions in a tone that's nearly impossible to interpret.

"I felt bad about how we left things the other day," I tell her honestly.

"Why?"

Furrowing my brows, I come to stand against the rail, careful to give her her space.

"Because if you need help, approaching you like I did isn't going to help anyone in the least."

Sara shakes her head.

"No, Nancy, you're here because you haven't been able to figure anything more out about what happened that night, and so now you need another go at it."

Finally turning around, Sara drops from the railing to stand before me.

Her gaze is almost as hard as her tone.

"Sara?" I question, her out of character behavior catching me off guard.

The brunette only shakes her head, moving to step around me and walk away.

Reaching out, I grab her arm to stop her.

The moment I make contact, Sara spins on her heels.

"Don't," she nearly growls at me, ripping her arm from my hand.

Raising my hands in surrender, I feel my eyes widen.

"I'm sorry…" I trail off, at an absolute loss for what to do.

Meeting her eyes, I furrow my own. Watching silently, I see her take in a deep breath before turning somewhat unsteadily back around to walk back toward the house.

"Sara, wait," I call, stepping up alongside her.

"Why?" she questions again, turning to face me. "I think we've both said everything we have to say to one another, Nancy."

"So that's it?" I ask her in disbelief. "You just turn your back on me, on Catherine?"

Watching as her jaw clenches, I cross my arms over my chest.

"I thought you loved her, Sara. I thought you cared about her a-"

Before I have a chance to finish my statement, Sara steps dangerously close to me.

"Fuck you, Nancy," she grinds out, cutting me off. "Don't you dare come here and say more shit like that to me like last time."

Eyes furrowing in confusion, I shake my head. "I'm just being truthful…"

Sara's teeth clench together, and I can tell she is working hard to keep herself restrained.

"Go home, Nancy."

Narrowing my eyes, I set my own jaw.

"No, I'm not going to give up like you are."

Shaking her head darkly, Sara starts to turn away again.

"Yeah, fine Sara," I call out. "Just walk away from this. From me. From her. Give up on the woman who you promised you would love forever w-"

Spinning around, Sara's finger points dangerously close to my chest.

"I'm not the one who gave up!" she yells, finally snapping as her voice nearly breaks with strain. "_I'm_ not the one who stopped loving _her_."

Eyes widening at her reaction, I slowly shake my head in confusion.

"Sara…" I trail off, not knowing what to say, what to do.

"She told me to stay out of her life," Sara gets out. "She told me she wants to move on."

"Sara," I start again. "She's upset. Of course she-"

"She told me she wished she never met me," she continues, cutting off my statement.

Clenching her fists, she takes in a jagged breath.

"She said she 'loved' me, Nancy. _Loved_."

With that final admission, I find my heart clenching tightly in my chest, the breath literally pressed out of me.

I don't know what to say.

Seeing my expression, Sara shakes her head.

"So no, Nancy. Don't you dare come here and keep saying shit like that to me. Like I've turned my back on her."

Her focus shifting, Sara reaches out to steady herself.

"I cheated on her, for heaven's sake. So when she tells me that she wants me out of her life, when she says she wants to move on from what we had together, what the fuck am I supposed to do?" she questions sincerely, her voice hoarse.

"It's her decision where we all go from here," she gets out. "Not mine, not yours."

With one final glance, Sara shakes her head.

"And I think she's made her decision quite clear."

Stepping away, Sara starts unsteadily down the path, her limp almost the worst I have ever seen it.

Catching up with her easily, I shadow her movements for a few yards before throwing caution aside and taking hold of her shoulder.

Stiffening under my touch, she doesn't snap at me this time, instead stopping and turning her dark gaze away from me.

Reaching out, I take hold of her jaw with my free hand and force her eyes to mine.

Assessing her silently for a moment, I finally let out a breath.

"You've been drinking, Sara."

Jaw tensing under my fingers, Sara doesn't look away.

"You've been drinking," I repeat in a defeated whisper, watching her eyes that cannot quite focus properly.

I should have known from the first moment Sara raised her voice with me, something she would almost never do sober.

I'm worried for her, concerned regarding the fact that she's drinking enough during the night that she still isn't sober come morning. That she's drinking alone. That she's sitting on top of fucking bridges after she gets drunk.

All of the above.

"Come on," I tell her quietly. "Let's get you home."

Sara takes in a steadying breath, her eyes leaving mine to look somewhere off to my left.

Removing my hold from her jaw, I use both hands to hold her by the arm instead, not trusting her unsteady legs.

Sara is silent for a moment or two, no doubt debating the best way to handle this.

At last, Sara seems to decide the best way to deal with the current situation is to not deal with it at all.

Allowing me to keep a grip on her, we walk slowly back towards the house. Neither one of us says anything, too lost in our own heads for words.

When we reach her house, Sara sets herself down on her porch steps, her head bowing and her dark features cast in shadows.

Sitting next to her, I let out a breath.

"I'm sorry, Sara."

She doesn't say anything for awhile, the wind the only sound around us.

Finally, she shakes her head with a tense shrug.

"Whatever. Now you know."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: You guys have been so good about reviewing, I'm trying to be good about posting when I can be. Hope you're all doing well. Thanks again for your comments, beyond appreciated. **

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 12<p>

"_Sooner or later everyone sits down to a banquet of consequences." _

_Robert Louis Stevenson _

* * *

><p>SARA POV<p>

Looking over at Nancy resting on the porch swing, I turn my attention back to the rising sun.

Shaking my head, I would laugh at the fact that Nancy, who insisted on sticking around until I 'sobered up' is now asleep except for the fact that there isn't really much left to laugh about in my life.

Nancy's exhaustion, for one thing, is probably related to the fact that I slept around on her sister, causing her life to essentially implode around her. I know Nancy has probably been doing all she can to take care of Catherine right now, and for that I feel more than indebted to her.

She's taking up the role that I can no longer fill, the role that I swore I would always play in Catherine's life. But, after those pictures, after the events depicted in those pictures, I doubt I will ever be in Catherine's life like that again.

And, to be honest, as much as it hurts, I'm glad that Catherine is strong enough of a person to have made that decision. She deserves better than someone who would betray her, who would hurt her in such a heartless way.

Sighing, I run my hand through my hair when I come to a realization.

With all the drama over the content of those photos, very little thought has gone into the fact that there actually _are_ photos.

Who the hell was there watching me that night?

It all seems a bit convenient that the one night I don't remember much of anything is the same night I cheat on the woman that I love and there are pictures to mark the occasion.

Sitting up straight, I push my emotions aside and begin to truly think about the situation.

Catherine may have said she 'loved' me and that she wants to move on, but the realization of what my life is like without her in it has pretty much scared the shit out of me.

Living alone in this house that we used to share together is damn near killing me.

If I'm going to accept this hell for the rest of my life, I'm darn well going to understand what damned me into it.

Standing up and waiting for the world to stop spinning, I conclude that I need those pictures.

I need to find that woman if I want to get answers.

If I cheated willingly, fine. At least I'll know. But, I can't help feeling like there is something I am missing.

Knowing that Nancy is the last one who had them and that she most likely would never keep them in her house where Catherine is also staying, I glance towards her Civic in the driveway.

One look at Nancy, still fast asleep, I make my way to her car in search of what I know I will find inside.

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

"Nancy?"

Hearing my name I inwardly groan. This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid.

Putting a smile on my face, I turn to meet the questioning gaze of my sister.

"Hey, Cath! I was just looking for you…"

Raising a brow, Catherine steps closer. "You're still a terrible liar. What are you doing here?" she asks, gesturing to the lab around us.

I glare, "I'm actually a great liar, thank you."

My sister's look only grows more dubious.

"Jimmy Bijack. Third grade. He broke up with you because we made out with each other in the tree house after school. Our elicit love affair went on for two weeks," I tell her bluntly.

Catherine's eyes grow a bit wide, and then she bursts out laughing.

"Seriously? Alright, I stand corrected. And all this time I thought it was because of that slutty Ashley Hinkle everyone was all ga-ga about."

"Yeah, well," I shrug.

Looking at me knowingly, Catherine sends me her best big sister look, "So are you still sticking to the story that you came here to see me then?"

I laugh, realizing my attempt at deception is a lost cause right now despite my past skill.

"No, it's just an added perk."

Shaking her head, Catherine finally catches sight of the envelope in my hands, an envelope that she no doubt remembers.

And will remember for the rest of her life.

"You're here to see Sara," she states, her tone hard to read.

I sigh, getting serious.

"Yes, I am." Taking a breath, I can't help but feel very guilty in this moment. "I'm sorry, Cath, I can leave…"

Shaking her head and putting on a smile that could perhaps fool someone who didn't know her better, she reaches out to place her hand on my arm.

"No, Nancy. Go see Sara. You two are friends, things shouldn't change between you two just because they changed between me and her."

I look at her in confusion, "Do you honestly think that what happened changed nothing between me and Sara? We've barely spoken since that day. A couple conversations, and confrontations, here and there. But no, Catherine, we aren't friends the way we used to be."

She looks at me, waiting for me to continue.

"I can't hate her, though, Cath. Part of me wants to for what she did to you, but I can't. Not after…" I trail off, knowing that she understands my unspoken words.

"I know," she says.

I nod, hoping that someday this will all be less awkward. That me talking to Sara won't feel like I'm sneaking off with Jimmy Bijack again.

"Look," she says, letting out a breath, "I want you two to stay friends." Her gaze grows serious, "She's good for you, Nancy."

Furrowing my brows, I don't get what she means. "Good for me?"

Her eyes become gentle, "Yeah, good for you. She's helped you with everything that went on with Chris. She can understand things that happened that day for you that I'll never be able to. Sara, for better or worse, understands pain and darkness in ways that I probably never can. She's good for you, Nancy," she repeats. "She's someone that you need to keep in your life as someone to talk to when you can't talk to me."

I close my eyes. "Catherine…"

"No," she interrupts me gently, "this isn't self pity. Sara is a lot of things, and she hurt me in a lot of ways, but she cares about you, Nance."

I shake my head, "But I'm fine, Catherine, I really am."

She shakes her own head, stepping closer and putting her hands softly on my shoulders. "No, you're not."

I don't say anything, and she pulls me into a hug.

"You try so hard to be, but you're not," she whispers into my hair.

Pulling me back at arms length, she silently wipes the tears from both our eyes. "And the reason I know you aren't is because of Sara. You had me fooled, you really did. But you couldn't fool her."

Looking at her in confusion, she clarifies. "She's kept me updated about you ever since that day in the desert. She never shared a lot, and nothing private that the two of you talk about, but she would let me know the basics of whether you were alright or not. She told me a couple weeks ago, before all of this happened, that she thought you were having trouble sleeping again."

Looking at Catherine, I don't know what to say.

Smiling at me, Catherine laughs knowingly. "Sara is a damn pain in the ass when it comes to reading people."

I can't help but laugh myself, "She definitely is. I had no idea that she knew…"

Catherine remains smiling, but her smile falters a bit, "Sara's not a person you can keep secrets from very well. It's a bit unfair that she is so damn good at keeping her own."

I nod sympathetically, but Catherine has shaken herself out of the moment before I can say anything.

"So, no, Nancy, I don't want you and Sara to cut each other out of your lives. You have to forge whatever relationship you guys feel comfortable with at this point, but just know that I support whatever that ends up being," she says seriously. "Don't feel like you need to end things with her because of me."

I nod, wishing I had any sort of clue where I even want to go with my relationship with Sara right now. Especially in light of the conversation I came here to have with her. A conversation that might end up proving our undoing.

"I love you," I tell my sister simply, knowing there is nothing else that covers what I feel.

She smiles at me, "Love you, too."

* * *

><p>"Sidle."<p>

Finally, Sara's eyes snap up and meet mine.

"Nancy?" she questions, obviously confused by my sudden presence in her lab. "Or should I be referring to you as 'Flynn' now?" she adds as an afterthought.

I shake my head, "Sorry, you weren't answering to Sara."

Nodding, Sara looks me over.

"Everything okay?" she asks with concern, likely wondering what I am doing here.

"Yeah. I came to bring you this," I tell her, tossing the empty envelope onto the table. "Thought you might as well take it, too."

She doesn't comment, leaving the envelope where it lays.

"You really thought I wouldn't notice them missing?" I ask. "Why you want them though, is beyond me. Unless of course it's to relive the fond memories."

Jaw clenching, Sara's eyes flash with hurt at my words.

Part of me feels bad for the unnecessary comment. Part of me doesn't.

"I want to know what the hell happened that night, Nancy," she says evenly, trying to keep her own emotions in check. "That woman in those pictures is my best shot."

Shaking my head, I rub my temples.

"I'm not mad about the fucking pictures, Sara," I get out.

Meeting her eyes, I clench my jaw. "I'm mad about _this._"

Without a word, I reach over and place a prescription pill bottle heavily on the layout table between us.

Stiffening, Sara's eyes jerk up to mine.

"Nancy?"

I only continue to stare at her in response.

"What are you doing? What is this?"

"You're not the only one who can snoop around and take things that don't belong to you," I tell her simply.

Finally breaking her position, she moves the pill bottle to the seat next to her.

Out of sight.

"I took the pictures from your car, so you went through my stuff?" she asks, eyes glancing down next to her before coming back up to my own.

"Actually," I counter, "someone didn't check their pockets very well before they gave me their sweatshirt."

Eyes narrowing in confusion, Sara suddenly realizes what I'm talking about. When I fell asleep on her porch yesterday, Sara had draped her sweatshirt over me to keep me warm.

Her kindness was also her mistake.

"That's why you wouldn't give me answers before, why you don't remember anything from that night. It wasn't just alcohol, it was drugs."

I shake my head.

"And it wasn't someone else's drugs, it was _your own_ fucking drugs."

Sara doesn't comment, but at this point she doesn't really have to, confirmation of what I'm accusing her of is written all over her face.

"You looked me in the eye, Sara, and you promised me you wouldn't ever use again."

She remains silent, but at least she has the decency to look away in guilt before dragging her eyes back to mine.

"Did you use that night you slept with that woman?" I ask, needing to hear her say the answer aloud.

"Yes," she gets out, hands clenching her pen so tightly I wonder how it hasn't snapped in half already.

"And have you used since?" I question, dreading the answer that I somehow already know she will give.

"Yes," she answers quietly, her voice strained.

Shaking my head, my eyes meet hers sadly.

"I think that's all I really need to know," I tell her sincerely.

Getting to her feet, she keeps her eyes on mine.

"Nancy…this stays between us."

"No, Sara," I counter immediately. "If you get to go telling Catherine that I'm not alright, that I'm not sleeping at night, I certainly get to tell her you're relapsing into an old drug habit."

Sara shakes her head, her eyes dark.

"I won't apologize for looking out for you," she says honestly.

"It's not the looking out for me that bothers me, Sara. It's the hypocrisy," I tell her sternly, my tone betraying my anger.

Sara lets out a breath, "She's your sister, Nancy. She has the right to know about concerns I have regarding your wellbeing. Me and her are…" she falters, shaking her head. "I don't know what we are. But we aren't in each other's lives the way we were before. She isn't the one that gets told about stuff like that anymore."

"She still cares about your wellbeing," I tell her honestly.

"And I will always care about hers," she replies without hesitation. "But, Nancy, it isn't something that she needs to know. Not anymore."

I scoff, "That's really nice of you, Sara."

Shaking her head , her dark features are stark against the fluorescent lighting.

"What's nice, Nancy, is not dumping something like this on her," she tells me, her tone indicating she's not backing down. "Not after what I did. You know your sister, she'll worry. I have no intentions of making her worry about anything, especially not about me. And certainly not about something as trivial as this."

"Trivial?" I scoff, advancing closer to her. "You're an _addict_, Sara. That is not trivial."

Sara sends me a warning look, "Don't."

I lower my voice to a tone I barely use. "Too late."

"You're making accusations you know nothing about," she states in a tone matching mine. "I'm _not_ an addict."

"Yeah, well, you lied to me before, Sara. So don't mind me if I'm having a hard time believing you now," I bite back. "In fact, I'm getting the distinct feeling that you lie a whole hell of a lot more than you let on."

Eyes blazing, she takes a step away from me, clearly done with this conversation.

"Fuck you, Nancy."

Immediately, I take a step forward to match her step back.

Reaching out, I grab the bottle of pills.

Closing the remaining distance between us, I slam the bottle into her chest, forcing her to step away as she grabs a hold of it.

"No, Sara. Fuck _you_."

Without another word, I swiftly exit the lab, too furious to see anything but red and knowing it's in my best interest to get the hell out of there before I say something I can't take back.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"No, Sara. Fuck _you_."

I hear my sister's words practically being spat at their intended target. Rounding the corner, I see her storm out of Sara's lab and promptly make her way down the hall and out the door, pushing the glass barricade open with all her might.

Raising a brow, I step cautiously into Sara's lab where the brunette is standing stock still with her back to me.

Silently watching, I see Sara take one breath after another in an attempt to calm herself down.

Placing something into her jeans pocket, she runs her other hand through her hair.

"Damn it," she mutters, her anger and frustration emanating off of her in waves.

"Everything okay?" I cautiously ask, stepping just far enough into the room so that I am no longer standing in the doorway.

I clearly startle her as she jerks around to face me.

Taking another calming breath, she attempts to appear normal. "Hey. Yeah. Everything's fine."

I shake my head and can't help but laugh.

"Well, judging from the way my sister just stormed out of here, I would have to disagree with you on that one," I tell her. "Last time she did that to me we didn't talk for weeks."

Sara nods, no doubt remembering the time that Nancy stormed out of our house and told us to leave her and Chris the hell alone.

"Look, Sara," I start, "I'm going to tell you what I told her. I don't want you guys to stop being friends because of what happened between me and you."

Looking at me carefully, Sara assesses the honesty of my statement. I assume she sees that I am being genuine when she responds with an, "Okay."

When Sara starts looking around the room at anything but me, it becomes clear that she is not planning on saying anything else about the matter.

"Care to tell me what you two were arguing about? Seemed pretty serious…"

Sara looks conflicted, clearly feeling obligated to avoid hurting me any further than she already has, but unsure of how to politely decline talking about what happened without doing just that.

Raising my hands, I give her an out. "No, it's fine. It's between you and her. I shouldn't have asked."

"Catherine…" she starts.

"No, Sara. You don't owe me anything."

I sigh, waiting for her eyes to meet mine.

When they finally do, I let my guard down and speak to her simply as one human being to another.

"Promise me you will keep looking out for her. Just because me and you…" I trail off. "Please, Sara, just promise me you will tell me if there is ever anything you feel I should know."

I am being vague, but I know she understands exactly what I mean.

"I promise," she says without hesitation.

Nodding, I turn to step out of the room.

"Catherine?" Sara's voice calls me back.

When I face her, her expression is serious. "Who's looking out for you?"

Furrowing my brows, I don't get what she means.

Taking a hesitant step closer, she clarifies.

"You asked me to look out for Nancy. Who's looking out for you?"

I send her a smile that I know likely looks more pained than cheerful despite my best efforts.

"The same person that's always looked out for me," I tell her, letting her know that I am fully aware of the fact that she still cares about me, still looks out for me, despite everything.

And most of all, I want her to know that I'm alright with her still caring.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh uh. Does Nancy tell? <strong>_**Should**_** Nancy tell? I guess we'll see… Thanks for reading.**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Thank you thank you thank you for the reviews. Your interest and kind words keep me going.**

**Hope you are all doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 13<p>

_"If you do not expect the unexpected you will not find it, for it is not to be reached by search or trail." _

_Heraclitus _

* * *

><p>SARA POV<p>

Flipping through image after image, I rub my temples. I don't know why I thought this would work, but I had honestly gotten my hopes up.

Deciding that since the majority of people nowadays seem to have some sort of criminal record or another, the best place to start looking for this mystery woman would be in the database at work.

It's depressing to realize just how many women with black hair aged 25 to 40 have criminal records. And, unfortunately, none of them appear to be the woman I am looking for. Three days of this, and I have gotten nowhere.

I went so far as to try to fingerprint the envelope and the photos sent to Catherine. And, of course, nothing, they had all been wiped clean.

Spurs was also a dead end. No one remembers seeing me with anyone matching that woman's description, and the man who spoke with Catherine was long gone. The hotel was much the same. Plus a lot of strange looks and wary glances as to why I couldn't remember for myself the woman I spent the night with.

I am beginning to wonder if this woman exists at all.

Finally reaching the last image, a convicted felon about 200lbs away from being the woman in question, I let out a sigh as I close the screen.

That's it. There is really nothing more I can think of doing. I guess I will have to find a way to be okay with not knowing.

Right, as if that will happen.

Gathering my things and turning off the lights in the lab, I make my way down the silent hallway, wishing the start of shift wasn't still hours away. The last thing I need is more time alone in the lab to contemplate the new reality of my life. A reality that lately is filled with infinitely more questions than answers.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"That's just ridiculous," Nick states tersely, fixing Sara with a pointed glare as they stand together in the back lab going over their case from this morning.

Seemingly unphased, which only irritates the Texan further, Sara shrugs. "Fine, we'll wait for the prints to come back and see which theory is correct."

"And in the mean time, the real killer is still out there, picking out his next victim," Nick snaps back at her. "Or don't you care about that?" he spits.

Now no longer pretending to be okay with this current conversation, Sara fixes him with a look of her own. A look that is clearly warning 'back off'.

"I care."

"Yeah?" he counters, "You could have fooled me. Seems like the only person you care about most of the time is yourself."

Shaking her head, Sara returns her gaze back to the evidence laid out on the table in front of her. "If you have something to say to me, Nick, then say it. Otherwise, get out of my lab."

Snorting, Nick advances on the woman about half his build. "Fine. You're selfish, Sara. You're selfish, and heartless, and I'm pretty damn sure you must be all but dead inside because –"

"That's enough!" I call, finally stepping into the room from my previous place in the doorway.

Both Sara and Nick immediately look up at me, obviously not having realized I was standing there this entire time. Nicks face is turning an interesting shade of red while Sara simply returns her attention back to the evidence.

"Catherine, I…" Nick starts.

Raising a hand, I cut him off. "Don't start with me, Nick. Go take a walk or something, cool off."

Shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another, he tosses a frustrated glance in the brunette's direction.

"Now," I nearly growl at him, "That wasn't a request."

Grabbing his file off the table, he stalks out of the lab, leaving a nearly palpable trail of anger behind him.

Laying my palms against the lab table, I look down at the various articles of clothing spread out across the surface.

"What the hell was that about?" I ask Sara curiously.

Shrugging, Sara makes a note in her file before looking up at me. "Who knows."

Furrowing my brows in confusion at her blasé reaction to Nick's verbal assault on her, I take a seat.

"Who knows? Sara, seemed to me like he was pretty ticked off at you about something."

"He was," she states simply, turning to start analyzing the evidence again.

"Hey," I call, directing her attention back to me. "What just happened between you two?"

I may have been willing to back down when I witnessed Nancy doing nearly the same thing to Sara in her lab earlier this week, but that was personal. It had nothing to do with work and therefore myself. What I walked in on today between her and Nick, two colleagues under my supervision, is very much my concern, and I am not going to back down.

"Sara," I demand. "I'm not going to ask you again."

Now furrowing her own brows in confusion, she sends me a strange look as she finally puts down her pen. "You really don't know, do you?"

Letting out an exasperated sigh, I resist the urge to shake her. "Clearly not, Sara."

Quirking her head, she eventually shrugs as she once again resumes her writing, "He knows I cheated on you, Catherine, and he's been a bit less than subtle about his opinion on the matter."

Widening my eyes in surprise, I shake my head. "How the hell does he know about any of that?"

Sara lets out a small smile, "This is the lab, Catherine. They all probably knew what happened before we did."

I feel my eyes widen even further. "My God, I thought this place was bad before, but seriously, this is ridiculous."

I know I didn't tell anyone anything about what happened, and I highly doubt closed-book Sidle over here did either.

Deciding to give up trying to figure this out, after all we work in an office full of investigators, I turn my attention back to Sara.

"How long has he been like this?" I ask, knowing I have paired Nick with Sara a lot lately.

Mostly to avoid pairing her with me.

Sara lets out a breath in an attempt at casual. "I don't know, a little while."

I fix her with a look, "How long is a little while, Sara?"

She fixes me with her own look, "A little while."

It's clear that I am not going to get anything else out of her. Cringing, I know that for Sara not to give me a timeframe means that it's been going on for much more than 'a little while'.

"He's acted fine with you when I'm around," I think aloud.

"He didn't want to upset you," Sara tells me quietly. "Like you are now."

"You should have said something. I could have paired you with someone else."

Looking away about a second too late, I catch her expression just in time.

"Everyone else is acting the same," I say, giving voice to her unspoken words.

"It's fine," she states simply, looking back at me. "I more than deserve it."

"No, it's not and no you don't," I tell her sternly. "What goes on between us has nothing to do with them. They have no right to act any differently towards you no matter what happened." I sigh, "Especially if they are going to act like such assholes."

"They care about you, Catherine," she tells me. "You can't fault them for that."

Yes, I am touched that they are all sticking up for me, but not when it is in regards to such personal matters. They have no right to have an opinion about anything that happens in my private life.

And, most importantly, they have no right to treat Sara, a coworker and friend of theirs that has had their backs more times than I can count, like she is some kind of vermin.

She cheated on me, not on them.

"It ends today," I promise her.

Deciding not to argue with me about something I have obviously already made up my mind about, Sara holds my gaze a bit longer before returning her eyes to the bloody shirt in her hands.

"We have another scene," I tell her, remembering the original reason I came to find her. "I could use your help if you can manage with your other open cases."

"Of course," she answers without hesitation, gathering her things while I make a mental note of all the people I now have a bone to pick with.

* * *

><p>SARA POV<p>

It's ironic, really. Just when you finally stop looking for something, there it is, right in front of your face.

I was processing the scene with Catherine when it all happened.

The scene was relatively isolated, a good 25 miles outside the strip. The only things around are a few houses and some fast food restaurants.

Looking around after the body was removed and we were about to pack up our things, the sheer absence of other people around made the couple of curious onlookers stand out like trees in the Sahara.

One onlooker in particular.

No sooner did I look over that the woman in question turned and directly met my gaze. A woman with jet black hair and a face I will never forget.

A face I saw in a group of photos that destroyed everything I ever loved in this world.

Immediately getting to my feet, I hold the woman's gaze in mine and approach her with my heart nearly racing right out of my chest. I had resolved myself to the fact that this particular confrontation was never going to happen. Now that it is seconds away from occurring, I find myself feeling strangely apprehensive.

"Hey," I call out to the rest of the onlookers, "Go home."

Looking at me with somewhat offended expressions, the few other people gathered around disperse.

Returning my gaze to the woman, I find that she is still staring at me.

"Who are you?" I ask, couching my voice to remain as neutral as possible.

However, when the woman only smirks at me in response, I begin to lose my tenuous grasp on my patience.

"Who are you?" I ask again, keeping my voice low.

"Oh Sara," she chastises me with a languid smile, "Did you really forget me that easily? I'm offended."

Stepping closer, I narrow my eyes.

"Don't do that, don't play around with me. Tell me your name."

"Sara, Sara, Sara," she tisks, no doubt using my name so many times in this conversation just to rub it in my face that she knows mine while hers is still a mystery.

Reaching out, she runs her fingers down my cheek.

Jerking away, I glare. "Don't you dare touch me."

"That's not what you said the last time we met. Don't you remember _begging_ me to touch you, Sara?" she questions, keeping her voice low, flirtatious.

I had approached this conversation tentatively as I don't know the circumstances of that night we shared together, and the possibility of me having potentially used this woman in my compromised state had occurred to me.

Now, however, her antagonistic attitude has me extremely on edge that if there was using of one person by another going on that night, that perhaps she wasn't the one being taken advantage of.

"Why won't you just tell me your name?" I question, not getting why this woman is insisting on vindictiveness.

"Because the longer we talk, the more that blonde bitch over there keeps glancing over here. At first she was curious, now she just seems pissed," she shrugs. "It's actually pretty funny to watch."

Glancing over my shoulder, I am relieved to find that she is referring to Sophia and not Catherine who is still finishing processing the perimeter.

"Stop playing around," I finally growl as I turn back to the woman's dark eyes. "Tell me who you are or I will have you brought into the station and learn your name that way."

"Hmm," she hums, narrowing her eyes. "I don't think that would work out too well. Catherine might recognize me."

Instantly, my guard is fully up and my senses are piqued.

Her antagonistic attitude, her knowledge of Catherine, her knowledge that Catherine would recognize her because she has seen pictures of her.

"You had those pictures taken and sent to Catherine," I nearly spit at her.

She only smiles at me, "I have no idea what you are talking about, CSI Sidle."

Narrowing my eyes at her strange response, I take a step closer to her and point an accusatory finger in her face.

"Fuck you, tell me who you are or I swear to God-"

"Sidle!" I hear directly behind me.

I never even heard Sofia approach.

"As I said, I don't know anything, CSI Sidle. I was just on my way home from work when I saw the sirens and came to look because I was scared something happened to someone I knew," the woman in front of me pleads, her voice transformed to something pathetic and frightened. "It's a small neighborhood. We're all so very close."

Stiffening as I immediately recognize the ruse she is playing, I feel nails digging into my palms as my hands clench into fists.

"You're free to go," Sofia tells the woman. "Thank you for your patience."

I feel the blonde detective's gaze on me. "Sidle, I'll see you at the station."

As soon as Sofia turns to head back to her car, the woman sends me a malicious wink.

Instantly, my mind flashes back to the exact same type of wink I got from Chris Dane and something deep inside of me snaps. I refuse to be played like that by anyone ever again.

Reaching forward, I grab hold of the woman's blouse in my fist.

"Whatever the hell you 're trying to do, you leave Catherine alone," I threaten darkly.

Before the woman even has a chance to open her mouth in response, I feel myself getting horse collared around the neck.

"You're free to go," Sofia repeats to the woman sternly.

I watch with sheer frustration and rage as the woman sends me a deliberate smile.

"Thank you, officer," she says sweetly.

She send me one last look and slowly walks away.

I know, with certainty, I will never find this woman again unless she wants to be found.

Which, I suspect, she won't.

She, and my only chance for answers, have disappeared into the night.

Pushing against Sofia, I try to get her arm off from around my neck.

"Nope," she growls, "You're coming with me."

Digging my feet into the ground, I wrench my body in an attempt to throw her off balance.

"Get your hands off me," I warn darkly.

"Or what?" she says with a snort.

Before she even has a chance to take another breath, I angle my head in one direction and promptly kick my leg out behind me in the opposite. To avoid getting nailed in the shins, Sofia is forced to loosen her grip around my neck so she can take a step to the side.

Instantly, I duck out from under her grasp.

Before I have a chance to utilize my new found freedom, Sofia snags a hold of the shoulder of my CSI vest.

Kicking her own leg out, she connects solidly with the back of my knees, forcing me to drop to the ground. I don't even comprehend what is happening when I find myself spun around and pushed face first into the dirt, with what I suspect is a knee planted firmly in my back.

My arms are wrenched behind me and I immediately growl in rage when I feel them restrained tightly in her grip all in a matter of seconds.

Trying desperately to buck her off me, she simply presses harder into my back with her knee, her other hand now keeping my face pressed against the dirt.

"What the hell is going on?" I hear a voice I clearly recognize as Catherine's coming from somewhere above me.

Hearing the fear in Catherine's voice, I don't know who I want to kill first.

That damn woman from the pictures or Sophia fucking Curtis.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Sophia continues to hold Sara down, despite my attempts to intimidate her with the death glare I am currently sending her way.

"Just teaching Sidle here a lesson," Sophia states with a smile.

I scoff, "What the hell kind of lesson, Sofia? You could be suspended for this!"

Sophia lifts her gaze to mine, turning serious. "And I could have Sara fired for assaulting a potential witness."

"I saw what happened with the witness, Sofia," I state. "That hardly qualifies as assault."

"It is when you factor in the various threats and whatnot Sidle here spewed at her," she replies.

As I study Sophia, I understand that this situation is a bit awkward with the various relationships that are involved. And I understand Sophia's point about teaching Sara a lesson.

Sara could have landed herself in a whole lot of trouble if the wrong cop had been on duty tonight and witnessed what Sophia had. Not to mention she could get herself killed approaching the wrong witness in the manner she approached that woman.

She's lucky there's literally no one else around to catch sight of what Sofia and I just did.

If I'm honest though, I think most of Sophia's frustration centers on Sara using her time on the clock to confront a woman about what was clearly a personal matter.

Just like Nick, she likely knows what happened between Sara and I, and while she has up until this point recognized it as our business only, I think Sophia sees what just happened as Sara using a crime scene to get one of her mistresses in line.

And, just like with Nick, I feel myself getting frustrated with Sophia for having an opinion about something that she has no right to have any opinion about at all.

Sara continues to struggle against Sophia, who simply pushes even harder into her back.

"I stop pushing when you stop resisting, Sidle," she tells her.

"Fuck you, Sofia," Sara growls, her face half in the dirt.

"Guys," I snap at them, "Cut it out."

Sophia snorts, "I stop when she stops."

I can't help but roll my eyes, "Have you met Sara? We'll be here for days."

"Fine by me," she states, "Nothing but paperwork waiting for me back at the station."

Sophia is almost thrown off balance when Sara suddenly renews her efforts to get away.

Almost.

Deciding to step in, I reach forward and grab Sophia by the shoulders, trying to pull her upwards.

I'm not quite successful, however, as Sophia simply readjusts her position, but it was enough of a shift to give Sara the chance that she needed to pry her wrists free from Sophia's grip.

With her arms free, Sara is able to use the ground for leverage and torques the upper half of her body out from under Sophia's knee.

Seeing Sophia trying to grab Sara again, I reach forward and grip her under the arms, this time succeeding in pulling the unsuspecting blond up and off of Sara.

Not appreciating my actions one bit, Sophia spins to face me, her finger pointed angrily at my chest.

"Bad move, Willows," she growls, advancing on me. "This is between Sidle and I, you have no right-"

"No, Sophia!" I snap, "_You_ have no right to lay your hands on _anyone_ like that…"

Clenching her jaw tightly, Sophia now has me backed against her squad car, her finger poking me painfully in the chest as she uses her superior height to intimidate me.

"You're th-"

Sophia's words are instantly cut off as she is suddenly jerked away from me.

Before I have time to comprehend it, Sophia's back is slammed against the car next to me, her body held there by a furious Sara who has her hands dangerously close to Sophia's throat.

"Don't you dare touch her," Sara growls out. "Don't you dare _ever_ fucking touch her."

"Sara…" I call, moving away from Sophia to stand beside her.

I'm not sure if she even hears me or not, as Sara keeps her hands clenched tightly against Sophia's shirt, keeping her pinned against her own squad car.

For the first time tonight, Sophia is quiet, looking genuinely uncertain and a bit concerned about what Sara is going to do next.

I have to admit, I find myself concerned as well.

I'm not sure I know Sara well enough anymore to predict what could happen here. Seeing the anger and aggression in her eyes, I find myself genuinely worried for her.

"Sara…" I call again.

No response.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," I tell her, trying to use wording that will calm her, ignoring the pain in my chest it causes to use words like 'sweetheart' to address her.

Words that used to be simple, uncomplicated expressions of my feelings.

Finally, her eyes still smoldering, Sara slowly releases Sophia and steps back.

"I ever see you touch her again and this ends very differently," Sara warns darkly.

Pushing herself upright, Sophia readjusts her clothing, her newfound freedom renewing her confidence.

"I don't think you have a say anymore in who gets to _'touch_' Catherine or not," Sophia smirks, knowing exactly what buttons to push to get to Sara. "Maybe she liked it…."

I have just enough time to react and grab Sara around the waist when as lunges towards Sophia.

"Fucking bitch," Sara grinds out through clenched teeth.

"Alright!" I yell, shifting my arms to hold Sara under the shoulders. "That's enough!"

Pulling Sara backwards and away from Sophia, I hold her arms tightly behind her.

Advancing slowly, Sophia stops directly in front of the now restrained Sara.

"This was a pleasure, Sara," Sophia says in a mockingly sweet voice.

Reaching out, she pats the side of Sara's face with her palm. "See you around."

Sara jerks her head, trying to get out from under Sophia's touch as best her limited freedom will allow.

Stepping back towards her car, Sophia sends me a wink.

"Oh, and I'll be seeing you too, Catherine."

Pulling against me furiously, I grip Sara even tighter as she tries yet again to have a go at Sophia.

"Get the hell out of here, Curtis," I growl at the blonde, knowing Sara won't calm down until she is out of sight.

Smiling, Sophia gives us both one final look and a bemused shake of the head before getting into her car.

"You two are perfect for each other," she mocks under her breath as she closes the door behind her.

Watching her pull off in a flurry of dirt, I wait until her car is out of sight before addressing the brunette still restrained in my arms.

"Calm down," I tell her sternly, feeling her body literally shaking with rage against my own.

Letting out a breath, I shake my head.

"Calm the fuck down, Sara," I repeat.

Sara doesn't say anything, her expression dark and tense.

When she finally stops pulling against me, I wait a few moments.

"I'm going to let you go," I tell her, "But you have to calm the hell down. I can feel you shaking."

Taking a breath, Sara angles her gaze out towards the mountains.

"I'm sorry," she eventually gets out after a few more minutes of tense silence.

I lower my head.

"So am I, Sara," I breathe out in a defeated breath. "So am I."

Letting her go, I watch as we both take a cautious step away from one another, our proximity being simply too much after all that has happened between us.

* * *

><p>"Come on," I tell Sara, turning to make my way to the Tahoe.<p>

I know that more than anything Sara wants to pretend like this never happened. For once, I am willing to live in denial right along with her.

I don't know what to say to her, quite frankly. I don't know whether to ream her out for her reckless behavior, or whether to thank her for having my back and looking out for me.

"You figure out who she was?" I ask instead in what I hope sounds like a neutral voice after we have been on the road a couple minutes.

I know exactly who the 'witness' was that Sara was damn near close to strangling earlier.

"No," Sara answers from beside me, keeping her gaze out her window.

"Well, it wasn't for lack of trying," I tell her honestly, sending her a knowing look when she finally brings her gaze to mine.

Furrowing my brows in concern, I reach out towards her face.

"You're bleeding," I tell her, my hand stopping just short of actually making contact.

I don't think my heart could take the rejection of feeling her pull away from me right now, whether the action is voluntary or not.

Turning her head to catch her reflection in the window, she is soon focusing again on the scenery beyond it.

"It's just a scrape."

Deciding not to argue with her, but knowing damn well it's more than a scrape, I continue driving.

"She touched you," I state, breaking the silence a few moments later. "That woman."

Turning to me, Sara's expression grows dark. "I know."

Balling her hands into fists, Sara clenches her jaw.

"God, Catherine, you…you shouldn't have had to see that…see her…"

She takes a shaky breath. "I've honestly never felt so much hatred towards a person who I don't even know."

Her voice grows quiet, "And it's not even fair of me to put the blame on her. It's all my own damn fault. Maybe that's why I got so angry."

Lifting her eyes to mine, she looks more defeated than I can ever remember seeing her.

"I'm sorry," she tells me genuinely for the second time tonight.

Reaching out, I take a chance and grip her hand in mine, trying not to think too much about the action and what it means.

"I know."

Removing my hand from hers before the feeling of touching her becomes too much, I pause, waiting for my own emotions to settle.

"What I meant, though Sara, was she _touched_ you."

Looking over at her as much as driving allows, I direct my eyes to her hip.

"When she was touching your face, her other hand was on your hip. On your belt."

Looking down at her pants, Sara's expression instantly shifts and I know she understands.

"You're a genius," she tells me, carefully moving to hold the lap band of her seatbelt away from her body.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: You guys are beyond amazing...thank you so much for taking the time to review. It always brings a smile to my face. Finished this chapter a bit early, so thought I would go ahead and post it for you all. And yes, I apologize for the misspelling of Sofia's name in the last chapter (thanks sbz)...when I get a chance I'll go back and fix it.  
><strong>

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 14<p>

"_Mistakes are, after all, the foundations of truth, and if a man does not know what a thing is, it is at least an increase in knowledge if he knows what it is not." _

_Carl Jung _

CATHERINE POV

"Need some string?" I ask, gesturing to Sara's hand that is holding onto the waist of her jeans.

Having left her belt back in the lab to fume overnight for prints, we are now making our way out to the parking lot to finally head home.

"Very funny," she tells me with an eye roll. "It just feels weird not having a belt."

Turning to me, she grows serious. "That and I'm a bit concerned due to the fact I'm not wearing any underwear."

I roll my own eyes at her, but my smile slowly fades when I catch her expression.

"Wait…no…seriously?" I question in shock, my voice raising a couple octaves.

Breaking out into her own small smile, Sara shakes her head at me. Or, more specifically, my gullibility.

"Hey," I call out when she starts to make her way towards her car. "Where do you think you're going?"

Sending me a questioning look, she raises a brow. "Home?"

Shaking my head, I unlock my Tahoe.

"Nope. I told you Sara, Nancy is going to take a look at that," I tell her sternly, gesturing to her face.

"I thought you were kidding," she mutters.

"No you didn't," I say, getting in my car.

Sara hesitates a few moments, likely calculating her options and just how much hell she will have to pay if she takes off.

With a dejected sigh, she slowly makes her way to my car and gets in the passenger side.

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

Reading out on the porch, I glance up when I hear my sister's Tahoe pull into the drive. Returning my attention to the page in front of me, I curiously glance up again when I hear two doors open and shut instead of one.

Raising my brows in surprise as I recognize the other person as Sara, I lay my book in my lap. Sara hasn't been here since before her and Catherine separated. I honestly wasn't certain I would ever see her here again.

"I have a patient for you," my sister tells me as they step up onto the porch, her expression betraying the complicated emotions running through her right now.

Immediately moving my eyes to Sara, I get to my feet. "What's wrong?"

It's amazing, even with the tense way Sara and I left things between us, the thought of her being hurt takes immediate priority.

Shaking her head in obvious frustration, Sara sends Catherine a look as she answers me.

"Put your concerned eyes away. I have a glorified papercut."

"Papercut, my ass," Catherine mutters, reaching out to grab hold of Sara's jaw.

Turning the brunette's face to the other side to show me the injury in question, I see why my sister brought her here.

"Ouch," I mutter, taking a couple steps closer to get a better look.

Releasing her grip, my sister steps inside the house, "I'll get you what you need."

Nodding, I look Sara over for any other signs of injury.

Thankfully finding nothing obvious, I return my gaze to her face. "What happened?"

"Catherine can fill you in," she tells me, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

Trying not to be obvious with my continued scrutiny of her, I take note of how utterly exhausted she looks.

"Alright," I say, deciding to leave her alone for now.

Returning with my medical supplies, Catherine hands them to me.

"I'm going to head in and take a shower," she says, no doubt looking to separate herself from Sara. From the idea of having Sara under the same roof as her for the first time in what no doubt feels like ages.

Turning at the last minute in the doorway, she looks over at me.

"Nancy, be sure to check her leg. The way she's been limping the last couple days makes me think all is not well."

Her mission complete, Catherine disappears inside without another word.

Raising a brow, I turn back to the brunette.

"You might as well sit down," I suggest.

Finally drawing her dark gaze away from the door where Catherine disappeared, Sara sits herself down on the porch step.

"Relax," I tell her, noting her tension.

Looking over at me, I see a myriad of emotions swirling in her eyes before she reigns them in and tucks them neatly back inside. It's obvious that this night, this essentially forced interaction between the three of us, is leaving everyone a bit on edge.

Wetting a towel with a sigh, I assess the abrasions on her face.

"Turn so you're facing the driveway," I instruct her.

When she complies, I begin wiping away the large amount of sand and dirt marring her features.

"You get into a brawl at work?" I ask, trying to break the tense mood, wondering how in the world her face got this dirty.

Looking down, I see her jeans and a majority of her shirt are covered as well.

"Yes, actually," she responds, her stark features matching the terseness of her tone.

After a moment she swallows, furrowing her brow.

"I'm sorry, Nancy," she tells me, her tone apologetic this time around.

"Don't worry about it," I state, understanding that her snapping had far more to do with her than it did with me.

"Turn," I direct, gently angling her face towards the light so I can see the cuts better now that the dirt has been wiped away.

"You have a pretty deep cut along your cheekbone, the rest looks like just some superficial scraping," I tell her.

She doesn't say anything and I know she could quite frankly care less, that she is only here because Catherine forced her to be.

Dabbing at the cuts with alcohol, Sara doesn't even flinch.

When I finish, I toss the bloodied gauze into a pile.

"Let me see your leg."

Looking over, Sara furrows her brows, pulling herself to her feet.

"It's fine, Nancy. Just fatigued."

Watching her eyes closely, Sara grows tense under my gaze.

"What are…" she trails off, suddenly getting what I am doing.

"Fuck you, Nancy," she breathes out quietly, her voice disappointed.

Turning away from me, I grab her before she can take off. "Stop right there."

Freeing herself from my grip, Sara turns to face me darkly, "Why, Nancy? So you can breathalyze me as well?" She shakes her head, "Want a urine sample?"

"It's a fair concern, Sara."

"Maybe," she says, giving nothing away. "But it doesn't mean I have to stand here while you assess my pupil sizes to figure out if I'm high right now."

"_Are_ you high right now?"

Shaking her head, Sara starts to walk away from me again. "Screw you."

"I could have told Catherine," I call out, my words effectively stopping her in her tracks.

Her back to me, I see her take a deep breath.

"I could have told Catherine but I didn't."

"What do you want, Nancy?" she questions darkly, turning around and taking a step closer to me. "To blackmail me?"

I don't answer and she takes another step closer. "Is that what this is about?"

"No," I respond, narrowing my eyes at her. "I wouldn't do that."

Sara watches me a moment, her expression about as pleasant as my own.

"Then what, Nancy? You want me to thank you?"

Shaking my head, I raise a brow. "I didn't do it for you, Sara. I did it for Catherine."

Sara nods.

"Good," she replies simply, genuinely.

"She has a right to know," I tell her sternly. "I think it's bullshit not to tell her. It's not fair to her."

Taking a breath, I shake my head. "But I can't put her in that position professionally."

Sara nods, "She's my supervisor. If she knew about it and anything happened at work…"

"Exactly." I fix my gaze with hers. "I won't wreck her career."

Nodding, Sara starts to turn away again.

"I won't wreck her career, Sara, but I will absolutely wreck yours."

Turning back to me, Sara narrows her eyes.

In the resulting silence, our heated gazes speak volumes.

"If I catch you using again, I _will_ report you directly. Catherine will have nothing to do with it."

I fix her with a look.

"I'm not going to sit by and let you endanger the lives of those around you. Or your own. I refuse. This is my one and only warning."

Assessing me a moment more, Sara finally nods. "Fine."

Turning yet again, I shake my head.

"You don't have a car here," I remind her.

"I know," she answers, not turning around. "I'll walk."

* * *

><p>SOFIA POV<p>

Hearing the locker room door open, I immediately get to my feet. Rubbing my hands down my jeans, I watch as Sara enters the room, making her way to her locker.

Stepping around the row, I lean against the one on the end.

"Sara," I call out to announce my presence, hoping not to startle her as the lab is mostly deserted at this off hour. The only reason I'm even here is to try to catch the brunette before work. And, to do that, means I need to show up at least two hours before work even starts.

"Sofia," she responds simply as she places her keys and a pack of cigarettes on the shelf, letting me know I needn't have worried.

Something tells me it's hard to catch Sara off guard.

"I need to talk to you," I begin, shoving my hands into my pockets when I find I have nothing else to do with them. "Or, well, I wanted to talk with you. If you have time."

Finally turning to face me, Sara looks at me a moment before nodding.

"Sure."

Closing her locker, she gives me her full attention.

Seeing her intense gaze, I am suddenly finding this harder than I thought it would be. Taking a deep breath and telling myself to stop being such a coward, I straighten up to my full height.

"I wanted to apologize," I tell her seriously. "For yesterday."

Shaking her head, Sara looks genuinely confused. "You have nothing to apologize to me for."

Shaking my own head, I take a tentative step closer. "Yes I do. What I did was out of line, Sara. It was unprofessional and out of line."

"It's fine," is her simple response. "I was out of line, too. And for that _I _should be the one apologizing."

She shakes her head.

"The only thing I won't apologize for though, Sofia, is what I said regarding Catherine," she tells me seriously. "I meant every word of that."

I nod, "I know."

Assessing each other a moment more, Sara nods before starting to turn away.

"Sara."

Turning back around, she raises her brow in silent question.

"The reason I was so upset yesterday is because I expected more from you," I tell her, my voice quiet.

She doesn't say anything, just watching me.

"I've always felt the closest to you out of everyone from grave shift, and we aren't even particularly close." I shrug, pulling my hands from my pockets, feeling a bit awkward to reveal this part to her. "I've always respected you. Your dedication to your work, to finding the victims justice…I've always admired that about you."

Furrowing her brows, I can tell the compliments are making Sara uncomfortable. That reaction alone is part of the reason I've always liked the brunette. She was never in this job for the glory.

"The victim was always your only priority. Not yourself, not politics, not personal vendettas." I take a deep breath. "Which is why I was stunned and disappointed with what happened yesterday."

Stepping slightly closer to her yet again, I shake my head.

"I've heard the rumors about what happened between you and Catherine, of course. Who hasn't. But I don't care, Sara, that's your guys' business and no one else's."

I fix her gaze with mine.

"What I _do_ care about though, is that your personal life doesn't encroach on my crime scenes." I keep my gaze serious. "And what happened yesterday between you and that woman, Sara? That was personal."

Sara doesn't look away. "Yes it was, and I'm sorry for that. I really am."

"I know you are," I tell her seriously, understanding that Sara is probably beating herself up more about losing her professionalism at a scene than I ever could. "Just like I am."

Sara nods, taking a deep breath.

Finally, a tiny smile starts to pull at Sara's lips.

"Catherine must have really scared the shit out of you when she no doubt lectured you about what happened yesterday."

Laughing, I am relieved to have some of the tension between us gone.

Sara and I have always been the type of colleagues to not want anything to do with office drama, simply wanting to do our jobs without any other crap interfering. Even having this type of 'personal' conversation with one another is more than uncomfortable.

It's something we've never needed before, and I genuinely hope never need again.

"She actually has a meeting scheduled with me later this afternoon," I tell her honestly. "Lord knows that's going to be a treat."

Sara lets out a laugh.

"Just tell her we squared things away once and for all in the locker room this morning. See what happens."

I laugh as well. "That's horrible," I get out. "But funny."

Sara smiles lightly, shaking her head before getting serious again.

"We okay?" she asks me.

I smile, sending her a nod.

"We're okay," I tell her.

Turning to leave, I can't help but gesture to her cheek with a grimace. "Your face on the other hand…"

Sara shakes her head, holding the door open for me.

"We're not going to talk about that."

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Observing her from through the interrogation room window, I watch the way the light plays with her hair. I watch the shadows as they move across her features, her eyes intense as they listen to the young man speaking to her.

I have no idea what he is saying.

But I also don't care.

I didn't come here for him.

If I'm honest, I didn't really come here for her either. I didn't even know she would still be here at this late hour. But, I caught a glimpse of her as I was headed to the room next door for my own interrogation, and found myself drawn here.

I could barely face her last night, could barely handle the idea of being in the same house as her. But right now, in this moment, I for some reason cannot muster the ability to look away.

Sara's expression is kind, gentle, listening to the suspect in front of her with understanding.

With empathy.

I watch her hands as they move to place a photo softly in front of him, her eyes pained as she watches his own fill with tears.

Sitting in silence, she stays with him as he weeps.

"Catherine?" Brass calls beside me. "You ready?"

Not taking my eyes away from Sara, I nod. "Be right there."

Jim doesn't comment, simply sending me a look before entering the adjacent room, leaving the door open for me.

I miss this woman, I find myself thinking. I find myself finally admitting. I miss this kind and warm woman that I fell so madly in love with.

I miss the woman that _I _was when I was with her.

She made me a better person, brought out the best in me.

I don't even know who I am anymore without her.

And, looking at her now, her face marred with gashes across her cheek, her eyes staring out amidst dark circles and ashen skin, I cannot help but wonder who she is becoming nowadays herself.

The anger and rage I saw in her yesterday genuinely terrified me. I didn't fear for my safety, of course not, but I absolutely feared for her own. Sara's a person who has so many demons lying just beneath the surface, demons that I know for a fact she battles against every day.

I am terrified that she is no longer winning those battles, that the woman I once knew is slipping away right before my eyes.

Watching her reach out to place her hand over the young man's arm, I come to a decision.

Maybe Sara and I have lost ourselves as a couple, but I refuse to let us lose ourselves as individuals.

I refuse to stand by and watch us destroy ourselves now that we find ourselves alone. Sara was too beautiful of a person, with too beautiful of a soul for that.

I think…I think it's finally time Sara and I talk.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Knocking lightly for the second time, I almost think Sara isn't home when I hear footsteps approach the door. Pulling the door open, Sara lets out a surprised yet tentative smile when she sees me.

"Hey," she greets me.

"You mind if I come in?" I ask, absently cringing at how awkward it is to be asking permission to enter what was once my own home.

Shaking her head, Sara steps aside. "Of course not."

Stepping into the house that looks exactly as I remember it, I put my keys on the desk near the door. I literally have to restrain myself from hanging my coat in the closet out of sheer habit.

Sara is standing somewhat anxiously near the kitchen, obviously tense about what could have brought me here. Taking in her posture, I absently note how good she looks standing there in a pair of boxers and a black tank top.

"Where you headed to bed?" I ask as a sudden afterthought when her attire registers in my brain.

Looking down almost self consciously, she shakes her head.

"No, I was just framing some pictures in the living room."

Stepping further into the house, I see various black and white prints spread out along the furniture. Two frames lay open on the coffee table, and I recognize them as the ones that hang above the fireplace.

Looking over the images surrounding us, I am once again amazed by Sara's talent.

When we first moved into this house, Sara gave me an odd look when I asked if we could use the pictures she had hanging in her apartment to decorate the living room since I found them breathtaking.

She agreed, and only admitted to me months later that the reason she was so surprised at my choice in décor was because they were photographs that she had taken herself.

Absently walking up to the fireplace, I take in the frame that remains hanging.

Inside of it is the black and white photograph of an elderly woman. Her gaze is focused squarely on the camera, or more accurately, through the camera straight to the person behind it.

Her eyes are light in color, contrasted starkly against the sun tanned tones of her skin. Her thick hair is long, hanging in flowing waves as the wind takes several wisps of it along with it. The hair is grey, but brilliantly shining in the light of what appears to be a setting sun. The thick waves of the woman's hair are interrupted by a single feather, tucked gently into the flowing mane.

"This one's still my favorite," I tell Sara.

"Mine too," she says from behind me, apparently having moved closer while I was lost in the piercing gaze of the woman in the photograph.

A gaze that holds so much hidden emotion, so much expression, so much strength.

"She's stunning," I whisper, knowing Sara can still hear me.

Finally turning, I take in the brunette standing in front of me. "Just like her granddaughter."

Moving her eyes from the photograph to mine in surprise, Sara's gaze lingers on me as we stand together in silence.

Finally looking away, Sara returns her gaze to the picture.

"She was a master at photography, always taking her camera with her everywhere we went," she says, affirming the identity of the woman in the photo that I somehow always knew.

"The day that photo was taken she was teaching me how to use it," Sara says. "She let me take a picture with it at the end of the lesson to give me a chance to use what she'd taught me. I don't think she realized I was actually taking a picture of her, thinking instead I was focusing on the ocean behind her."

Sara smiles slightly, lost in the memory.

"When she developed the pictures, she took me out to a park and handed it to me along with her camera. She just smiled and said, 'You'll capture the world with this in ways I could only dream about'. I was so scared I would let her down."

Sara shakes her head, physically shaking herself out of her thoughts.

"Is everything okay? Did you need something?" she asks gently, obviously wanting to change the topic from her to the reason I am here.

Respecting her silent request, I step closer to her.

"Actually, I came here to check on you, to be sure you were doing alright," I confess.

"You haven't exactly been looking very well lately," I tell her honestly. "I knew if I called, you'd just tell me you're fine, so I decided to come over and see for myself."

"I'm alright. Thanks."

"Your hands are shaking," I state honestly.

"You make me nervous."

Looking at her, her expression is sincere.

"Why?" I ask, a bit thrown by her comment.

Stepping imperceptibly closer to me, her hand starts to rise as if she were going to reach out and touch me, but drops by her side just as quickly as it had been raised.

"Because you're Catherine Willows," she tells me simply, a solemn expression on her face.

Searching Sara's eyes, I tentatively reach out and complete the action she abandoned only seconds before.

Laying my palm flat against her chest, I take in the quickened heartbeat and the contrasting calm, steady breaths.

Sara Sidle, all calm stoicism on the outside and raging tempests on the inside.

She is so close, so near to me that I myself am finding it hard to breathe.

Lifting her own hand, Sara gently places her palm against my cheek, thumb moving softly across the contours of my face as if discovering them for the first time.

Before I know what has happened, or who is responsible for initiating it, my lips are touching hers.

Our mouths part cautiously, allowing each other hesitant access. Reaching forward with my other hand, I run it through Sara's dark hair, feeling her shift quietly as my hand grabs hold of the soft locks.

Pulling her closer to me, her hips come to rest against mine.

I don't know if it is the contact of our bodies that finally draws my attention back to the moment, but I am immediately pulling away once I realize what is happening.

"Sara…" I start, fingers tracing across my lips as they instantly miss the contact with hers.

She steps further away, putting some much needed distance between us.

"I'm sorry," she forces out, sounding like the words are strangling her.

"So am I," I state in a voice sounding nearly as pained.

And it's true, I am sorry.

I have missed Sara so much these past weeks, so deep has been the loss that it literally has felt like parts inside of me were dying. I honestly wonder, after sharing the deepest and most beautiful of loves with Sara, if there is even a way to be whole ever again without her in my life.

Having experienced this brief moment, this glimpse back into what we once had and the life we once shared, it's like losing her all over again to have to pull away.

"Why?" I whisper, forcing my eyes to hers.

I know mine are filled with tears, but I don't have any strength left in me to stand guard to my dignity.

She looks at me with a pained expression that begs me not to walk down this path.

"Why did you do it?" I ask again, feeling the tears finally free themselves from my lashes.

Clenching her jaw, I know Sara is fighting the urge to wipe the tears from my face like she has always done before. Instead, she stands tensely, her body literally vibrating with the emotions she is fighting to keep at bay.

"Because I was an idiot," she finally says with self-directed disgust. "I was an idiot who made some very bad decisions."

"Was I not enough? Was I not good enough to you? Did you fall out of love with me?"

I know I sound pathetic, especially since I have been so adamant all this time that I didn't want an explanation – that no explanation would change what happened and therefore none was necessary.

But I think it's finally time I put to rest some of the ghosts that have been haunting both my waking and sleeping moments.

Ghosts that have been given life from all the self-doubt and dark thoughts created by my subconscious to explain the spiteful action taken by an otherwise gentle and loyal woman.

"No," she chokes out, eyes wide, "God no."

Looking like she is about to be sick, she takes an involuntary step back. "My Lord, have you been thinking that all this time?"

Pulling my eyes away, I nod slowly, "That and about twelve hundred other things to explain what you did."

"Catherine," she starts, waiting for me to drag my eyes back to hers before she continues. "You were never anything but perfect. In every way. Both when we were together and still now."

Her eyes are earnest, desperate, "I know I have no right to ask you for your trust, but please at least trust me enough to believe me about that."

Feeling more tears fall at her words, I know that she is speaking honestly. I have to admit, it is a huge relief to know her actions had nothing to do with me, but it doesn't do anything to take away my confusion.

"Then why?" I ask, not too proud to beg for understanding.

Shaking her head in what appears to be revulsion, she lowers her gaze.

"I was intoxicated, Catherine."

She pauses to force herself to meet my gaze, to give me the eye contact she knows I deserve. "I was very, very intoxicated."

Taking a moment to let her words sink in, I don't know whether I feel better or worse with this new information. All this time I had assumed that Sara had consciously made the decision to sleep with another woman.

Now, it's seeming more like a wretched mistake than a vindictively contrived plan.

"Did you know her?" I ask, even though I've already pretty much figured out the answer from hints Nancy has given along with portions of Sara's confrontation with the woman yesterday that I overheard.

But, even so, even though I essentially asked her this yesterday, I need to ask her directly right now, need to hear her say the words aloud.

"No," she says, "I have no idea who she was."

I nod, taking her words at face value.

"That's why you wanted the pictures from Nancy," I state, again needing to hear her confirmation of what I already suspected. "You were trying to figure out who she was."

"Yes," Sara confirms.

"And the prints from the belt?" I ask.

"Nothing. She doesn't have a record."

I let out a breath, trying to adjust to the answers I have been given and the answers that have been confirmed.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" I ask her.

I hate to admit it, but if I got inebriated enough to have a one night stand that I didn't remember, I would almost certainly use it to my defense, use it to beg my lover to give me another chance.

She clenches her jaw. "Because it's not an excuse. How or why it happened doesn't change the fact that it happened," she says. "The only thing that really matters in the end is that it happened."

Looking at me, I see the guilt and remorse playing across her dark features. "I'm Eddie."

I shake my head at her words.

"You could never be Eddie, Sara," I tell her honestly.

She doesn't say anything, and I know it's her way of stopping me from having to go further to reassure her that I don't equate her to my ex husband.

She doesn't believe me, still categorizing herself with him, but she doesn't want to turn this into a situation where I am forced to compliment or comfort her.

That mere action alone emphasizes just how much she is not like Eddie.

"I…I have to go," I say, suddenly overwhelmed with the situation, feeling like I need to get away from here, away from her, so that I can think clearly again.

This has all rapidly become much too heavy, and the weight of it all is focused squarely on my heart.

"Okay," she says, the caring look in her eyes letting me know she gets my need to run at this moment.

Turning and grabbing my keys, I throw a wave over my shoulder.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Catherine," I hear spoken quietly as I close the front door behind me.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Thank you, thank you, thank you for the reviews you guys have given. Really helps me to hear what people are thinking about what's going on and the various things each of the characters are doing/saying. You guys have no idea how much your words motivate me. As for the question regarding the quotes posed by sbz, most I find by searching through internet sites for relevant quotes based on the topic I know I want. Sometimes, as I am a huge fan of poetry and philosophy and such, I have an idea of an author or poet I have read that fits the chapter and it's simply a matter of finding the quote in question.  
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**Hope everyone is doing well. I also hope you are all ready for some...stressful...chapters ahead. ;)  
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**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 15<p>

_"A ship should not ride on a single anchor, nor life on a single hope."_

_Epictetus_

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"Here," I offer quietly, passing my coffee down the table to the tired looking brunette sitting at the end.

Looking up in surprise, Sara tentatively takes the cup. "Thanks."

"Sure."

Looking around, I notice that almost everyone in the room has their eyes glued to us, barely paying any attention to poor Wendy as she reviews the latest news from the print lab.

Something tells me the soap opera-esque drama of their coworkers is much more fascinating to them then how many prints were processed this fiscal year.

Gluing my own eyes to Wendy in some futile attempt to set an example, I really want nothing more than to be alone with Sara right now.

I don't know what the hell I would say to her, mind you, but it's obvious to me that something shifted inside me after our conversation last night.

I'm still hurt beyond words at everything that transpired between us, but now when I look at her it's like I'm seeing something totally different than I had before we spoke.

When I look at her now, I no longer see a cheating and manipulative woman. I see instead a woman who made a terrible mistake.

It was awful, yes, but it was just that. A mistake.

And really, after everything that she has done for me and my family, where does a drunken one night stand fit into all that?

When Eddie cheated on me, it was spiteful and vengeful. And, most importantly, it was intentional.

Sara got drunk, put herself in a terrible position, and has been forced to withstand the various consequences ever since.

She's suffered for her mistake personally as well as professionally.

Chancing a glance at her now, hazel eyes staring off into the depths of the coffee in her cup, unfocused and exhausted, I can't help but wonder if she hasn't already suffered enough.

Or, perhaps even more selfishly, if I haven't already suffered enough.

These past weeks without Sara have been hell. I don't think I realized just how much of a calming and encouraging influence she had on my life until the moment came when she was no longer there.

Why should I continue to be subjected to this crappy version of the life I used to have when I'm the one who was wronged? Shouldn't I be the one to pick which is the lesser of the evils?

Because, right now, I'm thinking that Sara with infidelity is a hell of a lot better than whatever the hell this current existence is.

Looking at her one last time, I watch her as she swirls the coffee silently in her cup. Stilling her motion, she furrows her brows before looking up and directly meeting my gaze.

This time, I don't look away, and neither does she.

Watching her, I search her eyes for some sort of direction, some sort of answer of where to go from here. She's searching my eyes as well, and I cannot help but wonder what questions she's looking for the solutions to.

All I know is, no matter what direction I chose, the one thing I cannot do is allow us both to keep living in the purgatory we are now.

Any more of this and I fear there will simply be nothing left of us at all.

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

"You going to eat that?" I question, reaching out to grab my sister's dessert before she has a chance to answer.

Immediately, Catherine's hand smacks my own.

"Yes, I certainly am."

Smiling, I nod. "Just wanted to get your attention."

Shaking her head, Catherine mutters something that sounds suspiciously like 'brat' before picking up her fork.

"Sorry," she says with a sigh, taking a bite. "I know I haven't really been very good company tonight."

"Want to talk about it?" I offer.

Taking another bite, she puts down her fork.

"I'm thinking of trying to work things out with Sara."

I, myself, am glad that I am not chewing anything or it surely would have been spewed half way across this table.

"Oh," I eventually get out.

Furrowing her brows, Catherine looks me over, taking in my reaction.

"I would have thought you'd be happy about the idea of us potentially getting back together…" she trails off in confusion.

I swallow, trying to get my bearings back. Taking a deep breath and hoping for what sounds like a neutral tone, I nod slowly.

"Of course I am," I tell her. "I just…I don't know, Catherine."

I watch the sun outside, hoping for some brilliant insight of what to say in this moment.

When, in reality, there is so much I cannot say because I made a promise to myself not to.

There's so much going on between Sara and I right now that Catherine simply hasn't been aware of, so for her, it makes no sense that I would be anything less than thrilled to see them reunited.

And, to be honest, I'm not sure that I'm not thrilled. I know that despite everything, Sara and Catherine are the only people in this world for each other. Anybody who has ever seen them together would recognize immediately that they're soulmates.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt again," I eventually settle on, knowing it's the true source of my concern, even if the reasons behind it aren't known by her.

Nodding, Catherine meets my eyes, her own genuine.

"Neither do I, Nancy," she says softly. "Neither do I."

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

"You really make a girl work hard to have a conversation with you," I call, nearly out of breath as I sit down next to Sara.

"Have a seat," she offers sarcastically.

Looking out, I watch the setting sun as it barely touches the tops of the mountains to the west of us.

"Should I be concerned that you've slipped a GPS somewhere inside my clothing?" Sara asks, her own eyes on the horizon as she pulls out her lighter.

"Your shoes, actually."

Sara smiles slightly as she lights a cigarette.

"Actually, your neighbor told me."

"She keeps making me cookies," Sara offers as way of explanation, her eyes narrowed in thought.

"Probably because you look like shit," I offer.

Snorting in response, Sara raises a brow. "I'm suddenly considering uninviting you to this get together that I don't recall inviting you to in the first place."

Smiling, I watch as she blows smoke away from me, our feet hanging together off the edge of the canyon.

Reaching over, I pet Mesa lightly where his head rests on Sara's thigh.

Getting serious, I take a deep breath.

"Catherine is thinking about getting back together with you," I tell her bluntly, knowing there is no better way to do this.

Immediately, Sara's eyes jerk to mine, her whole body stiffening.

"What?" she gets out, her expression tense. "What are you talking about?"

"You heard me, Sara," I tell her gently, feeling bad to have to spring this on her in this way, but knowing it's necessary.

"How…" she trails off.

"We talked about it tonight at dinner."

She shakes her head, "Why are you telling me this…?"

I take a breath in, letting it out slowly.

"Because I need to know that you aren't going to hurt her again." I meet her gaze. "I need to know that you aren't still using."

Stiffening, Sara starts to turn away.

Reaching out, I keep my touch gentle as I turn her face back towards mine.

"Sara," I tell her quietly. "I'm not here start something with you. I'm here as woman who is terrified for the well-being of her sister. Who needs to know that her sister isn't going to be getting back together with an addict."

Her jaw is still tense as she swallows, trying to resist pulling away.

Letting out a breath, I lower my voice.

"But, Sara, I'm also here as a person who is terrified for the well-being of her friend."

I shake my head, "I've been hard on you Sara, I know that. But it's because I'm so damn scared about all of this."

Watching me for a few moments, Sara finally relaxes just enough for me to feel comfortable letting her go.

Returning her gaze to the sun, Sara shakes her head.

"Nancy, I haven't used since Catherine came to talk with me at the house," she says quietly. "I tossed everything after she left last night."

Closing my eyes, I let myself finally breathe for what feels like the first time in a long while.

Reaching over, I take her hand in mine, not caring in the least if she is bothered by it. Right now, I need to hold onto her, to feel my friend who I have felt slipping away from me more and more these past weeks.

"I just want you both to be happy," I eventually get out, trying not to let the emotions running through me choke the words in my throat. "I just want you both to be happy again."

Looking over at me, Sara squeezes my hand in hers before watching the last of the sun as it disappears behind the mountains.

"I know, Nancy."

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Grabbing my robe tighter around me, I open the front door and make my way down the drive to grab the paper.

For the first time, I'm genuinely excited to head to work today. Last night I spent most of the night thinking, and in the end I came to the conclusion that the pain I feel when I think about living my life without Sara in it far outweighs the pain I feel when I think about what she did.

In the end, it's not really even close.

Granted, we have a lot of work to do to get ourselves back to where we were before all this happened, but I am finally ready to have that conversation with her. To start that journey with her.

Finally ready to tell her that I want to come back home.

Home.

That thought alone brings a smile to my face.

Pulling the newspaper from the plastic bag and glancing at today's headlines, I almost miss the brown envelope leaning against the house next to the door frame.

Glancing around, I get the feeling that whoever left it here is long gone.

Bending over, I take it into my hands.

Seeing the handwriting, my heart immediately drops in fear.

I've seen this handwriting before. I've seen this type of package before.

Ripping the seal open, I'm not surprised when five enlarged pictures fall into my hands.

What I am surprised about, however, is how quickly what is depicted on them shatters all the hope I had regarding Sara and I getting back together.

We're over.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh dear. Get ready for some craziness ahead. Thanks for reading.<strong>


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: You guys amaze me. Thanks again for your words of support and your continued interest. Brings some smiles to some very long days.**

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 16<p>

"_When you see a rattlesnake poised to strike you, do not wait until he has struck before you crush him." _

_Franklin D. Roosevelt_

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Storming into the lab, I rudely brush past everyone in my way. I have one single destination in mind, and heaven help any person who stands between me and her.

Crossing to the back end of the hall, I see Sara just where I expected her to be, hard at work in front of a layout table, over an hour before shift.

"Locker room, now."

Turning at the sound of my voice, Sara takes in my tone, then my expression.

Eyes narrowing, she slowly puts down the evidence in her hand.

"What?" she questions.

"You heard me," I snap, resisting the urge to deal with her right here and now, opting instead for some degree of professionalism.

But, really, I am about two seconds away from scrapping professionalism to hell and doing this right here.

"Okay…" Sara responds with furrowed brows, raising her hands in a position of surrender.

Giving me a wide breadth, she heads out the door, uneasily glancing behind her as I follow her down the hall towards the locker room.

Entering, Sara stops a few feet inside the door while I quickly make my way throughout the room.

"Out. Now."

The young man from day shift innocently putting away his belongings looks up at me curiously.

Any retort he had planned for my rude request is cut short when he sees my expression.

Without a word, he shuts his locker door and quickly scrambles past me and out of the room.

Following his path to the door, I reach out and slide the lock into place, not caring in the least that I am violating a myriad of lab policies by doing so.

"Catherine…" Sara questions from her place beside the lockers, looking at me with concern as I turn around to face her. "What is goi-"

Before she can finish, I find myself closing the distance between us and cutting off her words with a harsh slap across her face.

"How dare you?" I yell, no longer able to keep it in, my words echoing throughout the empty room.

Looking up at me in confusion, Sara tentatively raises a hand towards her face, no doubt trying to get her mind around what just happened.

"Cather-" she tries again, and before I can stop myself, I repeat my previous action and slap her again.

Head jerking to the side under the weight of my hand, Sara grabs the locker next to her to keep her balance.

Turning her gaze back to mine, her eyes darken as she looks at me with a renewed mixture of uncertainty and concern.

The latter only making me want to hit her again.

How dare she be concerned about me now? Where was her concern for me before?

Advancing on her, I expect her to back away from me. Instead, she stands her ground, but raises her hands to the side, keeping them away from me.

It's clear that she isn't going to make the mistake of trying to talk again, having learned that it is definitely not in her best interest right now.

Instead, she waits silently for me to speak, to make some sort of sense out of what is happening.

"How could you?" I nearly scream in her face.

Sara shakes her head, trying to indicate to me that she is still at a loss of what I am talking about.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out, Sara?" I question, shaking my own head at her.

Risking life and limb, Sara finally chances a response.

"Find out about what?" she questions, voice laced with desperation for understanding.

"The drugs, Sara," I growl out through clenched teeth. "The fact that you're using again. And not just using casually."

Saying the words aloud, I feel my rage renewed, my insides churning with so many emotions that I have to fight to keep from vomiting right here in front of her.

Any doubt I had in my mind about the truth of my accusations goes right out the window when I see her face, see her reaction to my words.

There is confusion, then there is pain, then there is guilt.

Guilt.

I can't believe this is my reality.

"Since when?" I ask her, my tone leaving no other option than to answer me.

"Since Chris," she gets out. "On and off since I killed Chris and got the prescription for my shoulder."

I can't believe it. All this time, with everything we went through together, Sara was using the whole time.

Was she high when she held me during those long nights filled with worry about Nancy? Was she high when she sat with me after her morning runs watching the sunrise? Was she high when we talked about marriage?

"And when did you start mixing them with alcohol?" I ask, trying to keep my mind from flashing back to the vile images in those pictures.

Images that, if I didn't know any better, suggest Sara was all but trying to overdose.

"A couple months ago."

"And when did you start crushing the pills so you could snort them like some fucking coke addict?"

"A couple weeks ago," she admits in a near whisper.

Reaching forward, I grab the front of her shirt in my fist, pushing her violently against the lockers behind her and holding her there.

"You stubborn, reckless idiot," I somehow get out through my tightening throat, my emotions threatening to strangle the words before they can be voiced.

Sara doesn't respond, her head lowering slightly, her gaze turning away.

"No," I command her, my voice low. "You're going to look at me. You're going to look at me while I say this to you."

Raising her head back up, Sara drags her eyes to mine.

"You're the most reckless person I've ever met, Sara Sidle. You walk around like you're untouchable, like you don't give a care in the world what happens to you. You take ridiculous risks, you make the most obscene decisions, and worst of all, you don't give a shit who you hurt in the process."

The emotions behind Sara's eyes shift slowly at my words, like water slowly changing currents.

She remains silent, however, resolutely keeping eye contact.

"You're a liar," I get out. "All this time, all these secrets. I'm beginning to wonder what else you've hidden from me. What other things you've kept buried away that I don't even know about," I tell her honestly.

"You lied to my face when you told me you slept with that woman because you were intoxicated, knowing damn well I would assume you meant alcohol," I force out.

"You had the gall to tell me you were concerned about me when you were probably fucking high off your ass at half the scenes we've worked together these past months! Where was your concern for my safety then?" I scream at her.

I take a breath, trying to keep from strangling her right here and now.

"If someone finds out about this, _every_ case in which you've touched a single piece of evidence gets immediately tossed out," I shake my head darkly. "Care to guess how many cases that nullifies?" I ask rhetorically.

I pause, watching her eyes as they fight to hold my own.

"The part that really gets me, though, Sara," I seethe lowly, increasing the pressure of my arm holding her in place, "Is that you had my _sister_ help you cover it up. So help me God, you dragged Nancy right down into this shit with you."

I shake my head.

"How _dare_ you?" I force out, my voice dangerously low. "Wrecking my life wasn't enough? You had to involve my _family _as well?"

Sara doesn't answer, her jaw tensing as she struggles to keep her eyes on mine, to keep herself under control.

As for me, I feel my own control rapidly slipping, tears of anger running down my face and tears of sorrow following close behind.

Searching the eyes of the woman so close to me, our bodies mere millimeters apart, I yet again look for a sign that this is all some misunderstanding, that this isn't really what happened.

But it is.

All I have to do is look in her eyes to know that it is.

"And to think I was even considering getting back together with you," I choke out, the reality of everything I have just lost, for what is now the second time, threatening to crush me.

I had decided to give Sara a second chance, and this is what happened. With absolute certainty, I know we are finished.

There are no third chances for us.

I can only take so many lies, so many secrets.

I feel my anger slowly becoming saturated with the emotions of recognition, acceptance.

Sadness, grief, loss.

"What happened to you, Sara?" I ask, my voice now nearly a whisper.

I narrow my eyes in antipathy.

"What happened to the person that I knew, the person that I fell in love with?"

With one final shove, I step back and away from Sara.

Fixing her with one final glance, I shake my head.

"I don't know who you are anymore," I tell her honestly.

With nothing left in me, I turn away from Sara, from everything I thought I once knew, and make my way to the door.

Throwing the lock open, I leave the locker room, not sparing a single glance behind me.

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

Turning the corner of the reception area of the ER, I see Sara almost immediately and she sees me just as quickly.

Meeting eyes, we are silent a moment as I step up to her, neither one of us really knowing what to say.

"Are you alright?" Sara asks, her eyes searching mine.

Letting out a breath, I shake my head. "Not really."

Sara lets out a breath of her own, "I'm so sorry, Nancy."

Taking her gently by the arm, I direct her towards a conference room I know will be empty at this hour.

As soon as we are inside, Sara paces anxiously along the wall. "I am so sorry."

"I know," I tell her, my voice resigned.

Watching Sara continue to pace, I shake my head. "How did she find out?"

Sara finally stops her motion, placing her hands on the back of one of the chairs positioned around the conference table.

"I have no idea."

Pushing against the chair, Sara runs her hands through her hair in frustration.

"Jesus, Nancy. I never meant for this…none of this."

Looking over at me, she shakes her head, "Not for her to have found out like this, not for you to have gotten caught up in it…none of it."

"I know," I repeat. "But we screwed up, both of us."

Her eyes growing dark, Sara resumes pacing. "It's my fault. I was the one who insisted Catherine not be told. I never should have put you in that position. Never should have come between you and your sister like that, you guys are family."

I want to reach out and strangle the girl for her reference to family – her reference that clearly excluded herself.

"I'm a grown woman. I made my own decisions," I settle on saying.

And it's true. For better or worse, what Nancy Flynn wants to do is what Nancy Flynn does.

"Fine," Sara relents, "But I still shouldn't have put this on you. Any of it."

Finally making my way to her, I reach out and grab her by the arms, holding her body still.

"Sara, stop," I plead with a sigh. "Blaming ourselves isn't going to help anything. We were idiots, plain and simple. _Both_ of us."

Looking at my expression, Sara sighs as well, stepping out of my grasp but remaining stationary in a spot against the wall.

"What happened when she confronted you?" Sara questions, her expression telling me she is almost afraid to know.

I shrug. "She showed up here. Yelled at me for awhile. I think she said something about betrayal, loss of trust in me."

"Shit," Sara curses, her eyes absolutely devastated when they meet mine. "Please tell me two of you are alright? I don't want to think that I did anything to screw up the relationship that that the two of you have."

Letting out a breath, I shake my head. "I have to warn you, Sara. To be honest, I think she's placing most of the blame for this on you," I state. "I think me and her are going to be alright. She's pissed as hell at me for holding out on her, yes. But she's absolutely livid with you."

"Good," Sara states simply. "That's fair."

Before I can comment, Sara shakes her head. "And she didn't say anything to you about how she found out?"

"No," I sigh, thinking back to my conversation with my sister. "She just said that saw what's been going on, what I helped you keep from her."

Sara's brows furrow, her gaze narrowing. "She said she 'saw' what happened?"

"Yeah," I answer, my own expression growing thoughtful. "I'd just assumed she meant 'saw' figuratively…not literally."

Her expression darkening, Sara's body grows tense. "I think she meant literally."

I shake my head, "But she wasn't there, obviously. If she 'saw' anything, she would have called us out on it right away…not waited until now to confront us."

"No," Sara counters. "She saw it, but she saw it for the first time today."

I start to shake my head again in confusion, but suddenly it clicks.

"More pictures."

Nodding, Sara grows pale, her hand rising to rub her temples in thought, mind no doubt running through a myriad of angles, ideas.

"What's going on, Sara?" I ask, starting to get a very bad feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

Sara is silent for a moment, and when her eyes finally come back to mine, I almost wish I never asked the question.

"Something isn't right," she says quietly. "I don't like this. This doesn't feel right."

Shaking her head, Sara starts pacing again, and this time I make no move to stop her.

"There were pictures of me with that woman that got sent to Catherine at work," she says. "Now there are presumably pictures of me taking those pills."

I shake my head, understanding and dread settling deep inside. "Someone is watching you, Sara."

Nodding distractedly, eyes raising to mine, Sara stops pacing, slowly stepping closer to me. "Nancy, I need you to do me a favor."

Despite everything that just happened, all the trouble I got in for doing my last 'favors' for Sara, I don't hesitate a second.

"Anything."

"You need to promise me that you'll keep your eye on Catherine when she's at home with you," she says sternly, her eyes pleading with mine. "Don't let her out of your sight. Tell her you want to sleep in her room because you're having nightmares or can't sleep, I don't care. Just do _not _ever leave her alone in that house."

Slowly nodding, I feel myself grow confused.

"Of course, Sara. I will. But, the person is clearly following _you_…"

Sara shakes her head, "They're following me, yes. But their motives may be with Catherine. Think about it, think about the type of pictures she's gotten," she says. "And think about _when_ she got them. They're pictures meant to drive us apart. The subject matter, the timing. They want us isolated from one another, and they'll do what it takes to keep us that way."

"But why?"

Sara clenches her jaw, "I don't know. But I'm going to find out."

"Sara," I state, not liking the sound of her tone. "You can't do this alone, you have to get help with this, report it."

Letting out a smile that holds no humor, Sara shakes her head. "That's the beauty of it. This person knows there's no way I can reasonably go to anyone with this. Not with those second pictures."

Not getting it, I shake my head.

"Not only could those pictures get all of my cases overturned in court, but Nancy, do you really want me to turn in photos of you violating a dozen laws by not reporting someone's illicit use of narcotics?" she asks. "Those pictures, in the wrong hands, could get you fired. Get your license pulled."

Sighing, I lean against the table. "If the decision is between someone's life and my medical license…"

Catching my gist, Sara sends me nod. "I'm not going to let it come to that. This is going to stop, one way or another."

Clearing her throat, Sara steps slightly closer, directing my attention back to the task at hand.

"I'm going to call in some favors," she states. "There's going to be someone posted outside your house until this is over, Nancy. If you ever feel like something isn't right, you call the police or you call me. I mean it."

"What about you?" I ask, not liking the idea of Sara alone in her house, isolated from everyone else.

"I'll be fine," she promises.

"God, Sara," I breathe out, "I hate this."

Stepping up to me, Sara shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Nancy. I can't seem to stop getting you dragged into all this shit."

Sighing, I reach out and pull the brunette into my arms.

Feeling her stiffen, I keep my grip tight until she relaxes, cautiously placing her arms around me.

"This isn't your fault," I tell Sara, knowing that she won't believe me, but still feeling the need to try.

Finally pulling away, I stop her before she can reach the door of the conference room.

"What happened when she confronted _you_?" I ask Sara quietly, casting a glance towards her face where it looks very suspiciously like someone hit her.

Shaking her head, Sara averts her eyes. "Nothing that I didn't deserve."

Then, raising her gaze back to mine, she sends me one last look before disappearing out the door and into the hospital beyond.

Taking a breath, I straighten my scrubs before stepping out to head back to work.

Throwing a glance down the hall where Sara disappeared, I can't help but send up a silent prayer to anyone listening.

Keep her safe.

Keep us all safe.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Hearing the phone ring, I glance absently at the clock beside the bed.

2:12am.

I wish I could say that I was sleeping, but that would be a lie. Unfortunately, sleep doesn't seem to come to me as easily as it once did.

Reaching over, I grab my cell off the nightstand, part of me almost hoping to get called into work so I can stop staring at the ceiling and go do something productive.

But, no, Ecklie usually enjoys torturing Sara too much with triple shifts to call anyone else in on their nights off to lend her a hand.

And, for the first time in my career, I find myself not bothered by the thought. In fact, I think a deep, dark part of me even feels some level of justification and satisfaction in it.

The brunette destroyed my life, why feel bad about someone else destroying hers?

Shaking my head, I flip open my phone.

"Willows."

"Catherine, it's Jim."

The tone of his voice has me immediately sitting up and turning on the light beside the bed.

"Jim? What's wrong?"

Hearing him take a steadying breath, his voice is low, like he is speaking somewhere that he has concerns about being overheard.

"Look, Catherine, I know you and Sara have had some issues. So I don't know if you're the right person to call, but I thought regardless of things between the two of you, you would want to know."

Feeling my heart sink with dread, I grip the phone tighter in my hands.

My previous hardened thoughts about not caring what happens to Sara are immediately forgotten in light of the words Brass has just spoken.

I may have a lot of anger and resentment towards her…and those feelings may be more than justified…but, please God…the last things I said to her…

"Jim…" I trail off, not able to say more.

"Catherine, Sara's been arrested."

My eyes widening in shock at his words, I find my mouth going dry.

"What…she…"

Jim sighs, this conversation less than easy for him as well. "I don't know much. All I know is that Ecklie is interrogating her now, and things don't look good."

Taking a deep breath, I try to fight the feelings that are coming over me when I think about Sara being interrogated alone by Ecklie.

They are feelings that I shouldn't still have regarding the person I promised myself I wouldn't care about any longer.

But, damn, right now, in light of everything and the gravity of the situation, I am finding it near impossible to choke down the concern and fear I have for Sara.

"What are the charges?" I ask, wondering what the hell she has gotten herself into.

Images of Sara being caught for a DUI or under the influence of prescription narcotics flash through my mind.

"He wants to charge her with murder."

Immediately, my heart slams in my chest and I nearly drop the phone.

"I'll be right there," I somehow get out, the world around me blurring into a strange haze.

Hanging up, I numbly reach over and grab my keys.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: No time to say much more at the moment other than a sincere thank you to the reviewers...you guys keep this story going. Will respond to the comments/questions from last chapter at the start of next chapter...**

**Take care.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 17<p>

_"But a resolution to avoid an evil is seldom framed till the evil is so far advanced as to make avoidance impossible."_

_Thomas Hardy_

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><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"Where is she?" I demand as soon as I enter the police station and spot Brass.

Coming over to me, he takes me by the arm and directs me to his office. Stepping inside and closing the door, he pulls the blinds against the window.

"Catherine," he starts, "She's pretty much alright, physically at least."

"Pretty much?" I scoff, shaking my head.

"Listen, there's something you should know."

Anxiously, I cast a glance at the door, wanting to simply walk through it and find Sara.

"What?" I question distractedly.

"Catherine, the person Sara is accused of murdering is the woman she had the affair with. She's dead, they found her body tonight."

Eyes shooting to Brass, I feel my mouth fall open.

"What?" I question, completely thrown by this new information. "Wait…how…how does anyone even know who that woman is? No one should know besides Sara and I…Sofia perhaps…"

"When they ran her profile, they got a number of hits," he says. "According to the lab computer logs, Sara had previously scanned a photo of her and ran it through facial recognition programs, presumably to find out her identity. Sofia recognized her as the same woman Sara was threatening at one of her scenes. Her prints had been run anonymously through the print lab after hours. It wasn't hard to connect the dots and he had her brought in."

Clenching my fists, I shake my head at the idea of such personal aspects of my life with Sara becoming so glaringly public.

"So Ecklie thinks Sara killed her to cover up her affair? That's ridiculous," I state. "Obviously everyone and their mother already knows about it."

Brass shrugs darkly, "Who knows what the hell Ecklie thinks. Other than the fact that he's wanted to get rid of Sara for years and this is like a lottery jackpot win for him. She's Sara's mistress, who Sara searched for and was then seen publically threatening, and now she shows up dead."

Nodding in frustration, I meet his eyes. "Can I see her?"

Sighing, he nods. "You can see her from the observation room."

I shake my head, hating that I can't get closer to her, can't actually talk to her right now.

But, deciding that seeing her from behind one way glass is better than nothing, I let Brass lead me out of his office and down the hall.

Stepping into the observation room, I nearly catch my breath at the sight before me.

"I'll give you some privacy," Brass offers quietly, stepping silently out of the room and closing the door behind him.

* * *

><p>Looking through the glass, I see Sara sitting at the interrogation table, Ecklie standing on the other side of the table, leaning over and clearly encroaching on Sara's personal space.<p>

The part that has me infuriated, however, is the fact that Sara is in full restraints.

Not just the simple handcuffs we occasionally use for the more uncooperative suspects. No, Sara is restrained using the cuffs reserved for those already convicted of crimes and residing in the federal prison system.

Her hands are in cuffs that are connected to a chain around her waist, which then holds a separate chain that trails down to a set of cuffs fastened around her ankles.

I don't know who the fuck Ecklie thinks Sara is, but unless he thinks she's Hannibal Lector, there is absolutely no reason to have her restrained in this manner.

Hell, for this type of interrogation there is no reason to have her restrained at all.

Leaning further over her, Ecklie smiles down at Sara, his voice drawing me out of my heated thoughts.

"And you always go running in the middle of the night?"

"What I always do doesn't matter. What I did tonight matters," Sara responds.

Her voice is strong, but I know her well enough to note the distinct edge of discomfort there as well.

Something tells me the restraints alone would be cause enough to make Sara uncomfortable, but to be restrained alone in a room with Ecklie is another matter entirely.

"I think what you did tonight is pretty clear, Sidle," Ecklie sneers. "What you did tonight is lying on a slab in the morgue."

Sara keeps her head angled low, her gaze directed to the far wall, not moving or reacting to Ecklie's words.

"We can do this all night, Sidle, I have nowhere to be."

At his words and Sara's slightly hunched posture, I look down at the time stamp on the recording monitor.

Ninety-seven minutes.

"Jesus," I mutter.

"Let's go over your alibi again," Ecklie suggests, taking a seat across from her. "You called yourself and left a message on your own answering machine."

"Multiple messages," Sara responds. "Like I told you before. Every half hour from the time I left the house for my run."

"How convenient," Ecklie states.

"Your opinion of their convenience is irrelevant. They're time stamped and the GPS location of my phone when I made them serve as ample alibi for the hours you requested to know my whereabouts."

Ecklie takes a slow sip of water, simply watching Sara as he swallows. Standing, he moves and walks slowly to stand directly behind her.

Coming to a stop, he stays there, placing himself at her back.

Inwardly I cringe, knowing Sara absolutely hates people standing or approaching her from behind. Add in the restraints, and he is going to be dangerously close to pushing Sara into a panic attack.

When I see his face, his expression, I realize he knows exactly what he is doing.

"You okay, Sara? You seem a little nervous."

"I'm fine," Sara gets out, keeping her head raised defiantly and forcing her voice to remain even.

"You sure?" he asks.

Then, without warning, he drops the water glass held in his hand.

Watching as if in slow motion, the glass shatters deafeningly loud against the tile floor.

The moment it hits, Sara jerks away, her restraints severely limiting her movement, but her body jolting away as much as possible.

"Hey!" Ecklie yells immediately, reaching forward and slamming her back flush against the metal chair. "You stay put or I'll find something to make you stay put!"

Breathing heavily through clenched teeth, Sara's whole body is tense as she fights the urge to pull out of Ecklie's grip.

"You settle down right now, Sidle!" he warns, leaning in closer to her. "I warned you before and I'm not going to tell you again!"

Not able to take it anymore, I nearly rip the observation door off the hinges as I storm to the door of the interrogation room. Forcing myself to take a brief breath before I enter, I open the door as calmly as I can.

Stepping inside, Ecklie's eyes immediately meet mine, a perverse grin crossing his face.

Sara, however, keeps her head turned downward and angled as far from Ecklie's body as possible, her gaze burning into the floor as her body starts to shake.

"Catherine," Ecklie greets cheerily, "Glad you could join us."

"Pleasure's mine," I respond absently, keeping my eyes on Sara. "Can I have a word with you outside?"

Ecklie looks me over, his face breaking out into a smile. "We can talk right here."

Seeing Sara's shaking continue and her hands clenching into fists, I try another tactic.

"Why don't you go grab yourself some fresh water, I can keep an eye on Sara. I think Brass was looking for you, anyway."

Searching my eyes, Ecklie finally shrugs.

Giving Sara one last push against the chair, he finally takes his hands off her.

"I'll let you two catch up," he offers, his voice alight with amusement. "Something tells me the two of you have a lot to talk about."

Making his way to the door, I catch his arm before he leaves.

"I think it's safe to take the restraints off, Conrad. She isn't going anywhere."

"Oh," he says, patting his pants like he is looking for something. "Darn the luck, I think I misplaced the keys. I'll be sure to find someone else from PD to lend me theirs as soon as possible."

Smiling sweetly, he pulls out of my grasp and out the door.

Never before have I wanted to punch that man so hard in the face, consequences be damned.

"Catherine…" I hear from behind me.

Turning around, I see Sara watching me, body still trembling as she shakes her head slowly. "It's fine."

"No," I say angrily, moving closer to the table but not encroaching on her space. "It's not."

Moving her eyes towards the cameras mounted on the walls, Sara sends me a silent message to watch what I say.

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair, hating this situation for so many reasons.

"I'm sorry they called you," Sara says after a moment, her voice hoarse and her eyes having a hard time staying on mine.

"I'm not," I tell her honestly.

There is so much more I want to say to her, need to say to her, but here isn't the place. Now isn't the time.

"Have they officially charged you with anything?" I ask.

Shaking her head, Sara tries to readjust her position slightly, and she can't quite hide the grimace that crosses her face quickly enough for it to go unnoticed.

"No," she answers. "My alibi is solid. They would run into more problems than answers if they tried to book me."

"You called yourself?" I question.

Looking at me, Sara nods, her eyes telling me that there is more but that she cannot share it with me here.

"Yes," she simply says.

"Okay," I respond in turn, letting her know I understand.

Trying to change her position yet again, I know just how uncomfortable Sara must be to let me see even this much of her discomfort.

"I'm going to go find Brass, get someone to let you out of those," I tell her.

"Really, it's fine," she tries again, but one look in her eyes lets me know just how not fine it is.

How very incredibly not fine it is becoming.

"I'll be right back," I promise her.

Before she can say anything, I am out of the room and into the hall, searching for the nearest cop. Part of me finds it ironic that Ecklie was apparently concerned enough about his safety around Sara to restrain her so severely, and yet he neglected to post an officer by the door.

Manipulative bastard.

Turning the corner, I see Ecklie and Brass conversing with one another in the hall. Moving up to them, they stop talking as I reach their side.

"You're either going to have to charge her with something or let her go," I tell Ecklie, looking between him and Brass.

"That's precisely what Jim and I were discussing," Ecklie tells me warmly.

One look from Brass tells me otherwise.

"I'm going to go release her," Brass states, not leaving room for argument. "You know how to get a hold of her if you need to ask her any more questions."

Moving away, he turns around at the last moment, "Although, as Sofia just reported to me that Sidle's alibi checks out, I don't expect there to be much more that she can add."

Sending Ecklie a carefully shrouded look of warning, Brass moves towards the interrogation room.

Sending Ecklie a look of my own, I follow closely after.

"Hey, there, kiddo" Brass greets Sara, trying to keep his composure at the sight of her chained like a convict. "Let's get you out of those and on your way, yeah?"

Taking a calming breath, Sara nods as Brass pulls out his keys.

"Can you stand?" he asks her, knowing it will be easier to remove the cuffs if she is upright.

"Yeah," she responds, trying to get to her feet.

Seeing her struggle, and yet another suppressed grimace, I quickly step up to her side.

Taking her gently by the arm, I help her get to her feet.

Wasting no time, Brass kneels and uncuffs the shackles from her ankles. Then, moving upwards, he removes the cuffs from her hands, stepping lastly around behind her to remove the chain from her waist.

Gathering the restraints in his hands, Brass reaches out and gives Sara a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.

"I'll see you soon," he tells her warmly. "Take care of yourself."

Sara nods quietly, "Thanks."

Sending me a look, Brass makes his way out of the room, leaving the two of us alone.

"Come on," I direct Sara, making my way towards the door.

As she follows after me, I see that Sara is limping heavily on her right leg, having a hard time keeping much weight on it at all.

Stopping in my tracks, I move to take hold of her arm.

"I can make it," Sara states.

"Let's get you out of here, then we can debate it."

My point made, Sara opts to agree with me, electing the quickest mode of exiting the building. Even if that means accepting my help.

Once we are outside, I continue to help Sara to my Tahoe, grimacing as I watch her limp progressively worsen with each step.

"What the hell did they do to you?" I question, feeling anger rising within me at her state of wellbeing.

Sara shakes her head, "Let's just say someone must have indicated that I was armed and dangerous judging by the methods they used to bring me in for questioning."

"I'm going to kill that bastard," I promise for perhaps the millionth time of my career.

I may dislike Sara strongly right now, but I dislike Ecklie more.

Opening the passenger door of my Tahoe, Sara suddenly stiffens when she sees what I am suggesting.

"Catherine…" she warns gently, letting me know that she can take care of herself, find her own ride home.

That I shouldn't feel obligated to do anything for her. That what we had in the past shouldn't hold me to any feeling of responsibility in our present.

Especially since the last time we spoke I communicated very clearly that I had written Sara out of my life for good.

I sigh, "I don't want to over analyze this, Sara. And I don't want to argue about it. Tonight you're coming back to Nancy's with me. I don't want any of us to be alone."

Searching my eyes, Sara remains silent.

"Please, Sara," I request, my expression softening as I let go of my walls and reveal to her the concern held underneath, the genuine fear the events of tonight have unearthed within me.

I don't know what the hell is going on, what it means that the woman Sara slept with has just shown up murdered in the streets of Vegas.

But, instinctively, I know that it cannot possibly mean anything good.

Her own eyes mixing with a myriad of unspoken emotions, she eventually nods.

* * *

><p>Pulling the Tahoe into the drive, I cut the engine and step around to help Sara out of the car.<p>

Holding her around the waist, I try to ignore what it is doing to me inside to have her this close, to hold her like this.

Ascending Nancy's porch, I unlock the door with one hand, pushing it open and helping Sara inside.

Moving towards Nancy's kitchen, I gesture to the table.

"I think you should probably have a seat," I suggest, feeling how unsteady she is.

"No," Sara says quietly, "I think the lengthy sitting was part of the problem. I'll…lean…"

Sighing but deciding not to argue, I direct Sara to Nancy's counter, helping her get herself positioned so that she can lean back against the marble surface.

Stepping away and removing my hands from her, I clear my throat, wishing this wasn't as awkward as it clearly is.

Looking around her, Sara seems just as uncomfortable right now as I am.

Then, as I am placing my keys and my coat on the kitchen table, I see her furrow her brows in concern.

"Where's Nancy?"

Putting some coffee on to brew, more to have something to do than anything else, I pretend to watch it percolate as I answer.

"Her neighbors have this competitive mah-jongg competition every Thursday night," I say. "It goes on literally all night. I made her go when I left to go to the station, didn't want her here alone."

Raising a brow, Sara stifles a smile. "I'm sorry…I know in light of everything that's happened tonight I shouldn't find that funny…but…wow."

Not able to help myself, I find my lips betraying me and pulling into a smile as well.

"Yeah. I think I owe her a couple dinners."

Nodding, Sara shakes her head before growing serious. "Cath, I think we should talk about what happened. Before she gets back."

I shake my head, turning to focus my full attention on her.

"Oh, right," I state coldly. "More secrets? More lies? More decisions about who in your life gets privy to what?"

Perhaps now that the immediate danger has passed, now that I know that Sara is more or less alright, I can allow myself to be angry with her. To not have to censor myself or my emotions.

Narrowing her eyes, Sara seems confused by my words, my accusation. "No...that's not it, that wasn't what I meant."

Taking a breath, Sara's gaze grows uncertain.

"You want to wait for her to get home? Talk about the woman I cheated on you with and whether or not I put a bullet in her head tonight? That's fine by me."

Ignoring her comments about Nancy, knowing in the end she is right and didn't mean it the way I was insinuating she did, I instead focus on the rest of her statement. The topic we really do need to be discussing.

"Did you?" I question, my voice sounding harsh even to my own ears. "Did you kill that woman tonight, Sara?"

As soon as I have said it, see the devastation that spreads throughout Sara's features as a result, I immediately regret it.

I think part of me wanted to hurt her, to cause her pain in return of all the pain she has caused me lately.

One look at her eyes lets me know I accomplished that goal spectacularly.

"Sara…" I start, already shaking my head in regret.

"No," she cuts me off, "It's a fair question."

"No, it's not," I tell her pointedly.

"Why not, Catherine?" Sara questions, her own voice genuine. "You probably never thought I would cheat on you. Never thought I would relapse back to using narcotics and then use your sister to help me keep it from you. Why is killing someone suddenly out of the question?"

Shooting to my feet, I nearly find myself slapping her for the third time in recent history before I pull back my hand at the last minute.

"Fuck you, Sara," I seethe instead. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to throw that all in my face to try to prove some point."

Taking a deep breath, I match my own heated eyes to hers, neither one of us willing to look away.

Finally, just when I think we might be here all night, Sara turns her head away.

"We need to talk about those pictures. The fact that someone has been watching us, following us," Sara says quietly, trying to focus herself and her emotions back on the topics that need to be addressed. "And the fact that the same person watching us most likely just killed that woman tonight."

Eyes moving back up to mine, she looks genuinely concerned. "We need to figure out what the hell they want, who the hell they are. Now."

"Before things get even worse," I finish her unspoken message.

Nodding, she readjusts her position against the counter.

"Do you think they were trying to frame you tonight? To pin that woman's murder on you?" I ask her, trying to think of the reasoning behind what someone would have to gain from having her killed.

"Possibly. Whoever it is seems determined to keep us apart. What better way to do that then to send one of us to prison for the rest of our life?" Sara states with a shrug.

"She was perfect for it," she adds. "I had an affair with her, evidence of that affair got out, I searched for her identity using the lab's equipment, Sofia sees me threatening her at a crime scene. Then, at the end of the chain of events, she shows up dead. It's perfect."

"Perfect except you have an alibi," I state.

"Which they likely didn't know about. They see me running alone at night, figure it's the perfect time to kill someone and pin it on me," she says. "No one would expect a person to have an alibi when they are out running by themselves in the pitch dark."

I nod, agreeing with her logic.

"Is that why you made sure you had one?" I question, part of me impressed and part of me concerned at the idea, the implications.

Sara nods. "I knew someone was watching us, following us. Did I expect them to commit murder, take things to this level? Not in the least," she says. "But there was no way I was taking any unnecessary chances, not when I don't understand what in the hell their motive is."

I sigh, "Thank God you didn't."

My emotions towards Sara are an absolute mess right now, but I can at least sort them out enough to know that I wouldn't want to see her framed for a murder that she did not commit.

Sentenced to prison for the rest of her life.

Although, it would make it easier to not have to see her every day…

Rubbing my temples, I let out a breath.

"I don't like this, Sara," I confess to her. "If this person is willing to go to this extent to screw with us, what the hell are they going to try next?"

Shaking her head, Sara lets out a breath of her own.

"I don't know," she admits quietly.

"I can't go through this again," I declare angrily, running a shaking hand through my hair. "Not after everything that just happened with Nancy because of Chris. I can't do this all over again, going through my life wondering when I'm going to hear that our luck has finally run out, that one of us has been seriously hurt or killed."

My voice rises in pitch, my body reacting to the emotional tension running through me.

"I can't do it again," I plead, feeling my body start to tremble as the stress of the night has finally caught up to me. "When I got that call tonight…"

"Cath," Sara says quietly, her voice pained, tentatively taking a step away from the counter but stopping before she reaches me.

Uncertain of what to do, uncertain of what I want her to do, will permit her to do.

Then, seeing the tears that are now making their way down my face, Sara shakes her head.

Throwing caution aside, she closes the remaining distance between us as quick as she can with her leg.

Pulling me into her arms, she holds me close, not letting go as I initially struggle against her.

Letting out a sob, I stop fighting Sara, stop fighting the comfort I so desperately want to accept.

Wrapping my arms around her body I feel myself tremble violently as tears continue to fall down my face and land against her shirt.

"Shh," she tells me quietly, "I got you."

Clenching tightly to her back, I let the sobs rip their way through me, not having the strength right now to hold anything back.

The events of the night, the events of the past months, it all is simply too much to be able to maintain any sort of control.

Instead, I let myself completely go.

And, perhaps the biggest mistake of the night, I let Sara catch me as I do.

* * *

><p>Hearing the front door open and close some time later, I extract myself gently from Sara's arms.<p>

Sending me a look, Sara questions with her eyes if I am alright.

I'm not sure how long we stood in Nancy's kitchen, Sara holding me in her arms, but I realize now that my tears have stopped and I feel a steadiness returning to my body.

Nodding, I risk meeting her eyes, letting my own thank her for her comfort in ways that my words cannot. Ways my heart cannot.

Not now.

And probably not ever again.

Sara doesn't comment, simply nodding her understanding and taking a step away from me to lean back against the counter.

Just then, Nancy comes into the kitchen, about to speak before seeing our expressions.

Looking back and forth between us, Nancy takes in my tear stained face, Sara's averted gaze.

"Hey," she eventually gets out, deciding not to question what she just walked in on.

"What happened with you tonight?" she questions instead. "Catherine didn't tell me anything, just that she had something involving you at work to take care of…"

Her words are directed towards Sara, but the brunette's gaze shifts to mine, letting me know that it's my decision what to tell Nancy. It's obvious that she is hesitant, after everything that has happened, to say anything I wouldn't want her saying. Or to neglect to say something I feel she should share.

Sighing, I fill Nancy in as best I can, watching as she tries to take in everything I am telling her.

"Woah, wait," she calls. "Someone tried to frame Sara for _murder_ tonight? Frame her for murdering that woman?"

"Maybe," Sara says cautiously. "There's still a chance this is all just a coincidence. Her death may have had nothing to do with us or our…situation."

"Right," Nancy scoffs. "Just a coincidence."

Then, softening her voice, she looks Sara over.

"You alright?" she questions, her expression growing hard when she sees the red marks marring Sara's wrists from the restraints.

In my account of what happened, I decidedly left out some details for her sake as well as Sara's. The restraints and Ecklie's harsh treatment at the top of that list.

"Yes," Sara answers tightly, already tugging down the sleeves of her sweatshirt to cover the bruising.

Taking a breath, Nancy looks less than convinced, and I cringe at the thought of what Nancy will think when she sees Sara try to walk.

"I asked Sara to stay here tonight," I tell her, trying to divert some of the attention away from the brunette who is growing distinctly more uncomfortable under my sister's gaze. "I didn't want anyone alone."

Nodding, Nancy finally diverts her eyes back to me. "Thus the mah-jongg."

Smiling, I shake my head. "Yes, I'm sorry about that."

Snorting, Nancy shrugs, "Don't be. I won a hundred bucks tonight."

"What?" I nearly choke. "You know how to play mah-jongg?"

Nancy looks at me like I'm crazy. "Who _doesn't_ know how to play mah-jongg?"

Shaking my head, I let out a breath, relieved to have some of the tension out of the air.

I know our situation is tenuous, all of our nerves likely to be on edge for however long it takes for everything to be resolved, but right now I feel secure in the fact that all three of us are safe for at least tonight.

"Come on," I suggest, "Let's all head to bed. It's been a long night."

"You mind if I take a shower?" Sara asks quietly, directing the question to both Nancy and I, not sure who she should be asking.

Nancy looks at me before returning her gaze back to Sara, "Sure. There are towels in there you can use."

"Thanks," Sara offers, pushing away from the counter and silently making her way past us and out of the room.

Watching her leave, Nancy's eyes dart to mine when she is sure Sara is out of earshot.

"What the hell happened to her?" she asks darkly. "She can barely walk…"

"Ecklie happened," I answer simply. "He apparently thinks she is a vicious killer and deserved to be treated as such."

Taking a breath at my words, her expression grim, Nancy looks me over. "And how are you doing with everything?"

Shaking my head, I work hard at not losing my composure all over again. "I honestly don't know. When Brass called me tonight, told me she had been arrested for suspicion of murder…"

I trial off, not knowing how to continue.

Nancy raises a brow.

"Did you wonder if she'd done it?" she asks me sincerely.

Shaking my head, I furrow my brows. "No, of course not. But, I don't know, Nancy…I was really scared for her."

Nodding, Nancy reaches over and places a hand on my shoulder, understanding my dilemma.

Understanding the complicated dynamic between Sara and I right now that makes simple emotions like concern and fear feel like betrayals to yourself and everything you promised your heart you wouldn't do to it again.

She knows how hard I am trying not to care, not to absolve or forgive Sara for all that she has done.

I can't go through it again. I can't let Sara work her way back into my life a second time, only to have more pictures of God knows what sent to me to reveal her newest betrayal.

I can't do it, and I won't.

Squeezing my shoulder, Nancy lets out a sigh.

"She cares about you, Catherine," she says, her tone as unreadable as the message behind her words.

I nod, letting out my own sigh.

"I just wish I didn't care about her," I state honestly, hating myself for even uttering the words aloud, but knowing in the end they are the only way to sum up my feelings towards the brunette right now.

I care, even after all she has done. I look into those eyes of hers, and I see hints of the woman I used to know, the woman I thought she was, and I care.

And, in the end, I wish to hell I didn't.

Because, in the end, the woman that I cared about isn't the woman Sara proved herself to be. I don't know where that person went, or if she ever really existed at all.

"Me and her are done," I state sincerely. "It's just hard to know I will probably never be able to go through life completely not caring about her. I'm just not that type of person. And," I sigh, "it makes me hate her all the more for it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Thank you guys so much for taking the time to review and share your thoughts with me. Much appreciated. As for the question about Nancy and the pics from last chapter (sbz), my way of thinking about it is most of the pics are of Sara using..plus one of Nancy finding the bottle when she was out on the porch…Cath concludes from that that Nancy knew Sara was using…confronts Nancy about it…who at that point comes clean to Cath and admits that yeah, she knew about it for awhile. Hope that makes sense.**

**Hope everyone is doing well – have a good end of your weeks.**

**Take care.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 18<p>

_"For here we are not afraid to follow truth wherever it may lead..."_

_Thomas Jefferson_

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Raising my eyes to the clock, I let out a sigh.

6:47am.

At least I got a couple hours of sleep in, I suppose. More than I was expecting to get tonight, if I am honest with myself.

Looking next to me, I see that Nancy is still sound asleep, head buried under the covers.

Extracting myself carefully from the bed, I make my way silently out of the room, heading to the kitchen to pour myself some of the coffee I pointlessly made last night.

Turning to the side, I look out Nancy's kitchen window, taking in the streaks of orange sunlight just beginning to crest over the mountains.

Just as I am about to turn away, I catch sight of something else.

Silently making my way to her back door, I open it as quietly as I can, gently shutting it behind me.

Taking a cautious step, I sit myself in one of the chairs along her back porch, watching the person occupying the chair across from me.

Sara is curled tightly in her chair, her knees drawn up to her chest, her head resting against her folded arms. The hood of her sweatshirt is pulled up and her sleeves are pulled down over her hands to protect them from the chilly morning air.

In this moment, watching Sara with her walls down, I cannot reconcile the innocence portrayed across her features with the recent revelations of her character.

I cannot picture her sleeping with that woman in a shoddy hotel room.

I cannot imagine her ingesting a bottle of painkillers with bottles of whiskey to wash them down.

I cannot see her lying to me, telling me nothing is wrong when she is all but spiraling down into depths so low that I genuinely fear she may never come back.

But she did, I remind myself.

She did.

Perhaps feeling my gaze, Sara's expression grows troubled, her body pulled from sleep as she opens her eyes to look around her.

When they land on me, it is clear to see her walls getting put back up, her eyes uncertain as they take in both me and my expression.

"Everything okay?" she asks, her voice still husky from sleep.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I nod. "Yeah, just saw you out here when I went to get some coffee."

Sara continues to assess me, clearly not sure what to say in response.

"You could have slept inside the house," I state, taking in her running shorts she is wearing from the day before, knowing how low temperatures drop at night this time of year.

"I know," Sara responds quietly, turning her gaze towards the brightening sunrise.

"I didn't want to wake people," she offers, giving me the truth.

For once.

"Nancy sleeps like the dead," I tell her, knowing she knows it already. "You wouldn't wake her with your nightmares."

"It wasn't Nancy I was worried about," she states honestly.

"Don't," I warn her. "Don't do that."

Turning her gaze back to mine, Sara's expression is impossible to read. "Don't do what?"

"Don't pretend like you care, Sara. Don't act like all of a sudden you're concerned about my welfare."

Shaking her head, Sara sends me confused a look. "I know I have no right to care about you, after everything I did. But I don't think I can ever stop caring about you, Catherine."

Her comment perfectly echoes back to me all of the thoughts running through my own head. All of the anger and resentment I have connected to those thoughts.

"Damn it, Sara," I whisper. "I need…"

My words trail off, lost somewhere in the cold morning air.

"What?" Sara presses, "You can say it."

Looking in her eyes, I see the truth behind her words. I see her permission to say what it is I need to say to her right now.

"I need you to let me hate you," I tell her honestly.

Eyes closing at my words, Sara opens them not a moment later, taking a deep breath and steeling herself against the bite of my admission.

What it means for her.

What it means for us.

"Alright," she says, clearing her throat. Taking another breath to gather the rest of her defenses, she nods her head. "Okay."

Pulling herself to a stand, Sara straightens her clothes as best she can.

"I'm going to take off," she tells me, forcing a look of neutral indifference on her face. "Tell Nancy I said thank you."

As she starts to turn away, I catch her arm.

"Sara, you don't have a car he-"

"I'll walk," she interrupts, shaking her head.

"Sara," I start, "You can't, your leg-"

"Catherine," she says quietly but firmly, effectively cutting me off a second time.

Her eyes are desperate when they lock with mine.

"If you need me to let you hate me, then you need to let me walk away," she says quietly.

After casting a pointed look down at my hand where it is still holding her arm, she brings her eyes back up to mine.

The emotions contained in their hazel depths, the pained emotions I can see swirling there that she is barely holding under control, causes me to immediately pull my hand back.

"I'm sorry," she offers in a whisper, stepping out of my reach. "I'll see you at work."

Giving me one last glance, she disappears into the yard and around the side of Nancy's house.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Walking into the lab today, I feel absolutely numb.

Part of me knows what happened between Sara and I this morning was a pivotal point in our relationship.

In fact, I believe it was the point that effectively ended our relationship.

I think we both knew things were over, but needed one of us to finally say something out loud to make it official.

I knew it was bound to happen, knew that it _had_ to happen in light of everything.

There was infidelity, there was dishonesty, there was secrecy.

No person, in a relationship that harbors such darkness and deceitfulness, could be blamed for ending it. Ending the misery and the pain of what that relationship had come to be.

Still, the pain Sara brought to me lately is now replaced with the pain of losing her in my life for good.

I think back to when we first started our life together, how excited, blessed, and honestly untouchable I felt.

Never in my wildest dreams, would I have pictured it ending like this.

I will never have Sara in my life again like she once was. I will never have her arms to run to when I need comfort, never having her steady presence pull me back from the edge when I am feeling overwhelmed, never have her soft and loving touches to bring the rest of the world to a halt, never have her warm body lying next to me through the dark hours of the night.

In the end, I think that is what hurts the most.

Not what Sara did to me, but what she took away from me.

My chance to be happy.

My chance to be happy with _her._

* * *

><p>Exiting the break room, I check my watch.<p>

Only an hour or so left of shift, then I can get the hell out of here.

Having to see Sara this morning when I arrived at the lab was torture, having to pretend like we are nothing but acquaintances now. Having to pretend like I didn't care that we are only going to be nothing but acquaintances now.

Hearing a commotion down the hall, I immediately lift my gaze and hasten my step.

Making my way through the lab, I see a large number of people gathered in the back layout room.

Looking around, I spot Ecklie near the front, talking sternly with someone from day shift.

Making my way up to him, I meet the eyes of Nick and Greg on my way, furrowing my brows at their pensive expressions.

"What's going on?" I demand, fixing Ecklie with a look when he shifts his attention to me.

A smile crosses his face, and in that moment I know that I am not going to like anything about to come from his mouth.

"Catherine, perfect." Looking around him, he smiles even broader to see the extent of his audience, the number of people about to witness what it is he is going to tell me.

"We got a break in that murder case," Ecklie says. "You know, the one we questioned Sidle for?"

"I know what case you were referring to, Conrad," I grind out through clenched teeth, trying like hell to maintain my professionalism.

"Turns out we may have been correct in our suspicions," he says cheerily.

Shaking my head, I cross my arms against my chest. "She had nothing to do with it, Ecklie."

His smile renewed, he holds out a paper to me. A paper which I take but don't even cast a glance at.

If he has something to tell me, he is going to say it to my face.

Smiling, he gestures to the ignored paper in my hands. "We found the gun the woman was murdered with. Ashleigh Connors, by the way. Thought you might want to know her name."

_Ashleigh Connors, _I think, playing the name through my head, _the woman who helped ruin my life._

Focusing back on Ecklie, I shake my head, "You found the gun? So what?"

"Sooo," he draws out, "Gun was cleaned pretty well, but we found a partial on the magazine. Got a match."

I shake my head, still confused.

Fixing me with a piercing glance, Ecklie's face suddenly holds no humor, only malice.

"Turns out we weren't wrong about Sidle. We were just wrong about _which _Sidle."

Eyes widening, I finally look down at the results in my hand.

Immediately, my eyes are drawn to the name listed there in bold, red letters.

_Liam Kenton Sidle._

Heart slamming to a near stop, my eyes dart back up to Ecklie.

"Liam? Sara's brother, Liam?"

Nodding, Ecklie's face quirks curiously to the side. "I suppose you wouldn't know anything about this, would you? I know you and Sara were…_close._"

Shaking my head in disgust, I look around me at the people in the room trying desperately hard not to meet my gaze.

"Where's Sara?" I demand, immediately noting her absence.

"We questioned her for awhile, as is standard procedure," he says casually, but his eyes tell a different story.

His eyes tell me that her latest interrogation was just as 'standard procedure' as the last.

"She claims she knows nothing about his whereabouts, so I sent her home for the rest of shift. Instructed her that she is to call us if she…learns anything new."

My heart dropping, I nearly shove the printout in my hands back into Ecklie's chest.

The pictures, the person watching us hell-bent on ripping our relationship apart, insistent upon driving a wedge between Sara and everyone she loves.

Isolating her from anyone who could help her.

It all makes perfect sense now.

It was never about us.

It was about a personal vendetta against Sara. A vendetta carried out perfectly by someone who knows all the best ways to hurt her.

Her own brother.

Shoving past everyone standing between me and the door, I storm down the hall and out of the lab.

I don't care that my shift isn't over, I don't care if Ecklie has me fired for this.

The only thing I care about is finding Sara.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Barging into the house that we once shared, I look around me. I saw Sara's Tahoe out front, so I know she is here.

Somewhere.

"Sara!" I call out, growing panicked as I get no response.

Stepping further into the house, I draw up short when I see the shattered glass littered across the kitchen floor.

Then, almost at the same time, I see the blood.

There are smears of it across the carpeting, drops of it splattered against the wall.

Immediately, my hand goes to my side and I draw my gun.

Looking cautiously around me, I step slowly towards the counter, feeling glass crunching beneath my shoes as I do so.

Keeping my eyes forward, I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell phone to call for help.

No sooner does my finger reach '9' that I sense a shift behind me.

Before I can even turn around, complete my call, raise my weapon, do _anything_ useful, I feel a hard object slam harshly against the back of my skull.

Pitching forward, everything goes black before I even hit the floor.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: Thank you all so much for the continued reviews and support – so glad to have you guys along with me on this journey. Hope you continue to enjoy.**

**If you want a refresher about Sara's brother Liam and about her family in general, Chapter 12 in Foxholes is the place to look. To make things easier, here is the relevant section if you want a refresher: **

**_"My older sister died when I was young. Addison was my best friend, and she was the pride and joy of my father. She had gone away to school in Connecticut, and was staying with my Aunt and Uncle who lived there. When we got the phone call that Addison had died, my father turned into someone else. He became an addict and a drunk. When we later learned that Addi had been abused and raped by my Uncle for the last two years of her life, my father turned his anger towards my mother. After all, it was her brother that had violated his adored daughter. My mother became his favorite target, but when that wasn't enough, he turned on his kids. After all, we were half of our mother's blood, right? He abused my brothers to the point that I was afraid I would lose them, too."_**

**_She looks away and stops._**

**_"Did he abuse you also, Sara?"_**

**_"My mom couldn't take it anymore," Sara continues, ignoring my question, which is answer enough. "She killed him one night, stabbed him 13 times without a word. She went to jail, where she proceeded to kill herself a short time after. My brother Parker became abusive to his family until he hung himself on his 27th birthday. Liam turned into a drug addict, and is currently serving a joint sentence for first degree murder and armed robbery. He shot and killed someone for their fucking watch."_**

**Take care.**

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><p>CHAPTER 19<p>

"_We falsely attribute to men a determined character - putting together all their yesterdays - and averaging them - we presume we know them."_

_Henry D. Thoreau_

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><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Raising my head slowly, I let out a groan at the pounding in my skull.

_God, how much did I have to drink?_ I silently question.

Then, going to rub my temples, my eyes shoot open when I find my hands restrained.

Looking around frantically, the reality of the situation comes crashing back to me.

Pulling against my restraints, they don't even budge, holding me tightly to a wooden chair that I recognize as one of the chairs from Sara's kitchen table.

Sara.

Looking around again, I draw in my breath when I spot Sara no more than ten feet away from me.

She is sitting in an identical chair, restrained similar to myself.

She has a blindfold tied tightly around her eyes, however, and her body is hunched over limply.

"Sara," I call, trying to keep my voice low, but desperate to rouse her. To hope she is simply asleep.

Judging from the trail of blood streaked down the side of her face and a similar one coming from the corner of her mouth, though, I highly doubt that is the case.

Looking her over further, I see smears of blood elsewhere on her body, and I find myself renewing my efforts to rouse her.

"Sara!" I plead, desperate for her to lift her head, to tell me she is okay.

"I don't think she can hear you right now," a male voice calls from the back hall.

When he steps into view, I nearly have to do a double take.

One look at him, and it is clear that this is Liam. That this is Sara's brother.

The resemblance is almost eerie. The same dark hair, same pale complexion, even the same hazel eyes.

It's funny, because I expected to see some sort of malevolence in his eyes, something to set him solidly apart from the member of the Sidle family that I know. Looking at him, however, I am somewhat thrown by the fact that, if anything, his own eyes seem almost more…innocent…then Sara's usually are.

No, not innocent.

Open.

Readable.

I don't fool myself into thinking that this man is innocent by any means, I am just getting the suspicion that he tends to handle the aspects of his life a bit differently than the brunette.

And, for some reason, I find that idea worries me.

"What did you do to her?" I growl out, trying to take my eyes off the blood saturating the collar of her t-shirt.

He almost looks bothered as he glances over at Sara, again contrasting with what I expected from him.

"We fought," he says by means of explanation. "Things got…violent."

"Clearly," I mutter, noting that he also has some pretty deep cuts along his face and arms.

For some reason, it makes me glad to see that Sara was at least able to put up a good fight before being overcome.

Liam nods towards the chair I'm sitting in, "I'm sorry, I was hoping to let this particular encounter remain between Sara and I."

Again, I am struck with surprise by his comment, by the genuine tone to his apology.

As if reading my thoughts in the same uncanny way Sara often does, Liam sends me a half smile.

"You were expecting me to be different?" he questions.

"Yes," I admit. "But I don't really know much about you or your intentions yet, so we'll see."

Liam nods, "I guess we will."

He doesn't say anything more, and I'm again struck by the similarities between him and his sister, the same quiet presence, the same thoughtful expression.

"Is she alright?" I ask him seriously, concerned that Sara is still unconscious, still bleeding.

Liam lets out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"I really thought you would care less whether my sister is alright or not."

At his comment, something inside of me starts to get a really bad feeling.

Meeting my eyes, Liam doesn't look away.

"What?" I get out, at a loss for other words.

"After everything she's done?" he says, raising a brow. "Shouldn't you be enjoying the sight of her like this?"

Something about his voice, the way he is watching my reaction to his words, sets me on edge.

"Liam…" I start, voice trailing off as I find I have no other words to follow.

"She cheated on you, yes?" he asks, his expression still watching me closely. "You left her, yes?"

"Yes," I state, feeling strangely off balance. "You've been watching us, sending me pictures, you know all this."

Letting out a small smile, Liam shakes his head.

"It's funny, you know?" he says quietly. "You did exactly what I wanted you to do, but I found myself a bit disappointed in you, Miss Willows."

"What?" I question, so confused now that I don't even know what else to say.

"Maybe I'm just being an overprotective older brother, but Sara would have fought for you."

Shaking my head, I give up trying to put words together.

"If you cheated on her, she would have stuck by you. Fought for you."

Furrowing my brows, I narrow my eyes.

"What did you do?" I question, feeling suddenly aware that there is something very amiss here. "What the hell did you do?"

"I hardly had to do anything," he counters, his voice dark. "It was _so easy_, Catherine Willows, to convince you that Sara had done the unthinkable."

Shaking my head, I feel a nauseating sense of dread welling up deep within me.

"What did you do…" I repeat, my voice now barely a whisper.

He narrows his eyes, assessing me.

"I drugged her at that bar," he eventually replies, his voice unreadable. "Took her to that hotel room. Hired a woman to pose for some…intimate scenes. I think you know the rest."

"It was all fake," I breathe out. "It was all staged. She never…"

"She wasn't even conscious, Catherine."

Thinking back to the photos, I realize I never saw Sara's face, her eyes. Just her back and the tattoo to prove it was her.

Jesus.

My mind, my emotions, they are racing and shifting incomprehensibly at this revelation. The cheating, the infidelity that first ripped Sara and I apart, that started us down this terrible road, was all a lie.

Nothing but a viscous ruse.

"The man at the bar?" I question, my voice sounding far away to my own ears.

"A random patron I slipped twenty bucks and a beer."

"Did she know?" I ask numbly, wondering if Sara ever figured out the affair never happened.

"No," he says, "Of course not."

He shrugs, "She was even easier to convince then you. She knows who she is, Catherine. She knows what lies inside her just like the rest of our family. Infidelity. Cruelty. Disregard for everyone but ourselves. All I had to do was plant the seed, and she believed every bit of it."

"That woman's murder?" I question, ignoring his other comments, needing to hear explanations for the questions I have burning in my head. "Were you trying to pin that on her?"

Something in his eyes shifts, and he almost looks uncomfortable.

"No," he says quietly. "That was a mistake."

I wait a moment, hoping he will continue.

"A mistake?" I eventually prompt, drawing his eyes back to mine.

"She wanted to turn the situation into something beneficial for herself, a way to take advantage of Vegas' law enforcement. Blackmail."

Looking up, he shakes his head.

"We argued, things got out of hand."

He doesn't say anything more, and this time I don't ask. To be honest, I think the rest of it is better left unspoken for now.

"What about the drugs," I get out, my throat tight. "Was that fake, too?"

Shaking his head, Liam looks over at Sara's prone form.

"No, that was all her, I just took the pictures. Well, mostly."

I raise a brow, and he notes my expression when he turns back towards me.

"She had a bottle of painkillers on her when I took her to that hotel," he explains. "All I had to do was remove a couple, make her think that she had taken them herself. Think that she had gotten high and ended up in bed with a complete stranger as a result."

"She wasn't using that night?" I ask, not knowing why it makes a difference to me, but it does.

"She thought she was, but no, she wasn't."

"Why?" I breathe out, "What could you possibly have to gain from all of this?"

"Excellent question," he tells me, his expression shifting. "But I really think Sara would be interested in hearing that answer as well."

* * *

><p>Glancing nervously towards Sara, still hanging limply from her restraints, I watch as Liam approaches her.<p>

Pulling something from his pocket, he holds it under her nose.

Almost immediately, Sara jerks upright, letting out a cough as her head angles away from him.

"Welcome back, sis," Liam tells her, stepping back towards the couch. "You have a visitor."

Sara doesn't say anything, pulling on her restraints.

"Aren't you curious to know who it is?" Liam asks.

"Not in the least," Sara gets out, her arms still pulling against the chair.

"Why don't you say hello, Catherine?" Liam suggests.

Instantly, hearing my name, Sara's motions cease, her body going completely rigid.

"Looks like I have your attention now," Liam comments.

Then, turning to me, he raises a brow.

"I was serious, Miss Willows."

Narrowing my eyes at him, I decide it is probably best to do what he asks at this point. So far he hasn't been violent, and I would like to keep it that way.

"I'm fine, Sara," I tell her. "Just a bit of a bump on the head."

I know Sara won't believe I am fine unless I am honest with her, telling her everything currently wrong with me. Which, thankfully so far, is just one hell of a migraine.

"Catherine…" Sara gets out, the concern and distress in her voice at realizing I am really here is palpable. "If he hurt you…"

I shake my head, even though I know she can't see it.

"No, babe, I'm fine. Are _you _alright?" I question, noting my use of the term of endearment.

Right now, I don't give a shit about anything that happened between us, I'm scared as hell and desperate to know that she is alright.

Liam laughs, his expression darkening somewhat.

"Sara's fine," he says. "Our little fight before was like a warm up in our house, nothing but a slap on the wrist to us. Isn't that right, Sara?"

"I'm okay, Catherine," Sara answers me, ignoring Liam's comment, her head turned away from his voice.

I can tell from her posture that she is more uncomfortable than she is letting on. That, despite her words, she isn't 'okay' at all.

I don't know if she is seriously hurt, or if she's uncomfortable because of the restraints, the blindfold.

Part of me wonders if it isn't a combination of all three.

Clearly, Liam doesn't need to blindfold Sara for identity purposes, leading me to believe he knows very well what restricting Sara's senses, taking away her ability to see what is going on around her, would do to her.

Either that, or there was something that he didn't want her to see.

I don't know which possibility is worse.

"Catherine wanted to know why I'm doing this," Liam states, drawing my attention back to him. "I thought you'd be interested in the answer as well. Want to hazard a guess?" he asks.

"Because you were dropped on your head as a child?" Sara answers, her words holding nothing but contempt for him, for this situation.

Liam shrugs. "No more so than you were. And not so much dropped as slammed. But that's neither here nor there."

"You bastard," I growl out, not able to help myself at his cavalier mention of the abuse from his past. From Sara's past.

Liam's eyes narrow dangerously.

"I wasn't the bastard in the family, Miss Willows. That would have been our sister Addison."

Instantly, at the mention of her sister's name, Sara pulls angrily at her restraints. "Don't you _dare_ bring her into this. Don't you _dare _even say her name."

Eyes moving back towards Sara, Liam steps closer to her.

"Did you know she wasn't even our full sister?" Liam questions genuinely. "That's why dad always favored her. She was his from his 'first wife', which, really, I found out was a mistress he had on the side while he and mom were engaged."

"You're lying," Sara forces out, her body tense.

"Not at all," he counters seriously. "That's why he lost it when he found out she'd been molested by mom's brother. Why he took out his anger on us. Unlike Addison, we were _her _offspring," he says.

"It's amazing the things you find out about your family when you have nothing but time and carefully monitored internet access in prison," he adds as an afterthought.

"How did you get released?" I ask curiously, as much to break the topic for Sara as anything.

"I robbed someone a number of years back, shot them for their belongings. But I was high as a kite when I did it. Apparently drug addiction runs in the family," he adds with a small grin before growing serious again.

"You tell the warden you were young and stupid. Tell him you had an addiction problem, no conscious thought of what you were doing that terrible night. That you're sober now, and you want a second chance at life."

Shaking my head, I cannot fathom letting someone like him out of jail.

But then again, when you simply look at him on the surface, he has a bit of Sara's charm. His handsome features and earnest eyes could get someone like him a long way towards convincing key individuals he is a changed man.

That he isn't meant to live out his life as a convict, that he is meant for something more.

"Woe to the judicial system on that one," Sara breathes out.

Advancing on her, Liam takes hold of Sara by the jaw, letting her know exactly where he is as he stares her down.

"Hate me all you want, Sara, but you listen to me. You're no different than I am. If I'm evil incarnate, then so are you."

Sara snorts, her teeth clenched tightly. "Preaching to the choir."

Closing my own eyes at her words, I hate the fact that I think she might just be serious. After all the events recently, I wouldn't be surprised if Sara doesn't truly believe she is as dark and destructive as the man standing before us.

"Sara…" I tentatively state, trying to keep her mind from going somewhere it may not come back from.

Pushing Sara's face away harshly, Liam turns his attention on me.

"I'm sorry, Catherine, but I have some things I need to say to Sara. And I'd really rather you not interrupt them."

Reaching over, he grabs an extra blindfold from the bookshelf, but instead of covering my eyes, he places it in my mouth as a gag.

Hearing me grunt in response to his actions, Sara's head immediately angles towards the noise.

"Don't you dare touch her, Liam!" she all but yells. "This is between us."

Stepping away from me once the gag is secure, Liam again advances on Sara.

"It _should _be between us, Sara. But really, she's part of the problem."

He shakes his head darkly, pulling the blindfold from her face.

"I want to see your face for this next part."

* * *

><p>Blinking against the light, Sara immediately throws a concerned glance towards me, looking me over for injuries. Her assessment is interrupted when Liam grabs her jaw and turns her face back towards his.<p>

"I got out of prison and set out to find you. After all, you're the only family I have left," he tells her, his expression shifting between angry, hurt, and something I can't quite put my finger on.

"When I first saw you I was relieved, because, no offense, you looked like shit," he admits. "Tired, limping, even scrawnier than I remembered you. Life had been just as hard to my sister as it had to me. We were siblings again, kindred spirits trying to survive the harsh realities of this world."

He turns, now looking between Sara and I.

"But then you were kissing this gorgeous blonde woman outside the office. Kissing like teenagers falling in love," he says.

"I followed you home and I learned you were more than that. You were living together. A family."

Sara doesn't say anything, keeping her head angled down, but it is clear that she is hearing his every word.

"You broke the promise we made," he says almost softly, eyes fixed on her face.

Finally looking up, Sara meets his eyes.

"You remember our promise?" he asks her.

Nodding, Sara looks away.

"I remember."

"And what was our promise?"

Sara clenches her jaw, her eyes pleading with him when they return to his. Pleading with him not to bring up this particular topic.

"What was our promise, Sara?" he asks again. "When we hid up in our room that day, what did we promise?"

Teeth gritted together, Sara clenches her hands tightly into fists.

"We promised it ended with us."

Nodding slowly, Liam takes a small step towards her. "We promised not to do what our parents did, Sara. We promised not to force anyone else into the darkness of a life with a Sidle. If we remained alone, the legacy, the violence, it would all end with us."

Looking over at me, Liam's eyes meet mine briefly before returning to his sister.

"Does this look like what we promised, Sara?"

Reaching over, he pulls a picture frame from the bookshelf. It's one I recognize from a camping trip we had taken with Nancy.

"Does this look like what we promised?"

Eyes tense, Sara barely glances at me before her focus is back on Liam. She doesn't answer, but she doesn't have to.

In that instant, my heart, which I thought couldn't withstand much more, breaks just a bit further. I imagine a young Sara, hiding in a dark room with her older brother, listening to the sounds of her father's abusive violence raging below them. I see them sitting together, making a pact not to become what their parents were to them. Not to subject anyone else to the violence they lived with, the violence they experienced firsthand.

Shaking my head, I try to speak out against the gag, to say something, say anything, to Sara, but all that comes out is a muffled moan.

Neither Sara nor her brother even seem to hear me.

Rubbing his temples, Liam sits on the couch.

"What happened to Parker?" Liam questions her, and I search my memory for the name. I remember Nancy mentioning Sara's other brother was named Parker.

Sara doesn't answer, clenching her jaw tightly.

"He broke our promise and what happened?" Liam asks again.

"You know what happened," Sara gets out.

"So do you," he counters. "So you should know better."

Shaking his head, Liam sighs.

"Somewhere along the line you forgot who you are Sara. Selfishly living this life with these people without any regard to them, of what you would no doubt someday do to them," he tells her sadly. "So I staged that affair, sent all those pictures, and set them free of the Sidle name."

Shaking her head, Sara finally raises her eyes to his.

"Fine, you were trying to protect them from me. Is that why you're doing this, what you wanted me to understand?"

Liam stands, moving closer to Sara.

"Mostly, but this isn't all about them, Sara. It's also about you. As much as I didn't want to see their lives destroyed," he admits, "I didn't want to see you happy either."

Sara doesn't respond, causing Liam to quirk his head.

"Curious to know why?"

"Yes," Sara answers honestly.

He nods, taking a slow, steadying breath.

"Because I watched you hate our mother for absolutely no reason," he answers, his voice strained. "Watched you let her die alone in that prison. Watched you move on with your life after her death when I _couldn't_."

He shakes his head tensely, and I know this is it, this is the reason behind why we're all here like this, what brought us to this point.

Shaking her own head, Sara pulls again at her restraints, no doubt feeling herself that we are getting close to some sort of turning point, uneasy about what lies ahead.

"What are you talking about?" she asks in genuine confusion. "She killed dad, she went to prison. You could have moved on after her death the same as me."

Closing his eyes at her words, Liam bows his head. "That's the problem, Sara. I couldn't."

Reaching out, Liam holds her face tightly, fixing their gazes together.

"Listen to me closely, Sara," he demands, his voice eerily desperate. "You're a CSI, which is the irony of ironies because you couldn't, even after all these years, deduce what happened during a crime committed in your own fucking home."

He keeps their eyes matched, his own hazel eyes battling against hers.

"I couldn't move on after our dad's death like you could for one very simple reason," Liam says. "Mom didn't kill our dad, Sara, I did."

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: Thank you so much to those who have reviewed – you guys are beyond appreciated. Cannot express that enough.**

******WARNING to all, this chapter gets very dark at points and deals with some difficult topics. Read with caution.******

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><p>CHAPTER 20<p>

"_Truth has no special time of its own. Its hour is now - always."__  
><em>

_Albert Schweitzer _

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><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"I couldn't move on after our dad's death like you could for one very simple reason," Liam says. "Mom didn't kill our dad, Sara, I did."

Hearing his words, I watch as Sara's eyes widen, her head shaking in disbelief.

"No," she chokes out, "I was there…I _saw _her…she stabbed him…again and again…"

Hearing the tone of her voice, the pain there as she says the words aloud, I find my eyes closing briefly in anguish.

Sara never shared with me the details of what happened with her father's murder, not ready to open up about that part of her life yet. This isn't the way I wanted to find out, the way I wanted her to have to share it, tied to a chair in her own living room and all but forced to say the words aloud.

"Think about what you _really_ saw that night," Liam says, his voice drawing me out of my thoughts. "You saw her stabbing him because you heard the commotion. But _think_, Sara, did you ever see that first stab of the knife? The one that penetrated his heart, killing him?"

Breaths becoming shallow, Sara pales, her coloring becoming so ashen that I fear she is about to either pass out or vomit.

"I…she…," she stutters out, her head shaking slowly back and forth.

"She walked in on me, on what I had done," Liam says, his voice almost gentle. "And then she did what any mother would do in that situation."

Sara's body begins to tremble. "She covered it up."

Nodding, Liam kneels down in front of his sister.

"She took the knife from me, wiped off my prints, and stabbed him over and over again. Making sure the noise got your guys' attention and that his blood got all over everything, including us."

He keeps his gaze locked on Sara's. "From that moment on, we became the traumatized children who walked in on their mother stabbing their father, drenched in the evidence of what they witnessed."

Sara shakes her head in disbelief, fighting his words, fighting his contradictions of the truths she thought she knew.

"Sara," Liam calls, reaching out and holding her face firmly in his hands, forcing her gaze to his. "You know I'm right."

Trying to pull from his grip, Sara renews her struggles against her restraints,

"No, stop…" she almost pleads, "You're lying. You have to be lying…" she breathes out.

Liam smiles sadly, "I wish I were. It would've saved us both a lot of trouble."

Sara turns her gaze away from him, continuing to fight against the binds holding her in place, the binds forcing her to listen to words threatening to destroy her.

Her eyes are so unreadable in this moment that I have a hard time recognizing anything they hold behind them.

But, the one thing I can see, is that she, despite her protests, believes what he has told her.

Liam can tell as well, and he remains kneeling in front of her.

"She got arrested, confessed to killing him," he continues. "And then, once she was convicted for his murder, knew no one else could ever be tried for his death, she did the one thing she still had the power to do."

Sara's body is shaking so badly that when she responds, she can barely get the words out. "She killed herself."

Liam smiles sadly, finally getting to his feet.

"She killed herself," he agrees. "And now you know why I can't stand seeing you happy. Seeing you living a life free of the guilt that I've had to carry with me all these years," he says.

"The guilt of knowing what I did, knowing what my own mother did to cover up my sins. And you, living oblivious to the whole thing. Going to Harvard, starting your career. Falling in love," he states, gesturing towards me.

"It wasn't fair," he says.

"It wasn't fair since the reason I did it was because of _you,_" he tells Sara evenly.

Shaking her head, Sara's eyes widen and she looks like she knows exactly where this is headed.

"Stop," she grinds out. "Don't."

Liam's own eyes widen at her words, suddenly looking between Sara and me.

"You never told her," he says in surprise, not posing it as a question. "Well, this should be interesting."

Pulling at her arms with renewed efforts, I worry that Sara is going to dislocate something if she keeps this up.

Trying to say something, say anything to her, I growl against the gag in my mouth.

Liam barely pays me any notice, and I am half convinced Sara's eyes have turned black with emotion when they meet mine.

There is so much being held there, so much anger, fear, pain, regret, all so prevalent and so strong that I wonder if they will succeed in destroying the very fabric of Sara's being.

I can tell that she is barely holding on.

"You see," Liam says, now advancing on me. "Our father had one particular form of revenge that he knew would work best against our mother…"

"Liam!" Sara yells, "Don't you dare!"

Turning back towards her, Liam wordlessly grabs the discarded blindfold from behind her, untying it.

"I swear to God," Sara growls. "Do not tell her that…_any_ of that. It's _not_ your story to tell!"

Simply shaking his head, Liam steps around behind her. "I'm sorry, baby sister, but I'm going to need you to be quiet now."

Using the blindfold as a gag, he ties it tightly around Sara's mouth, stepping out of the way as she thrashes violently, screaming into the material.

I try to get her to meet my eyes, to communicate to her that it's alright, that somehow everything will be alright, but she is beyond solace.

Continuing to thrash, blood begins trickling down her hands from her restraints.

"Catherine," Liam says, directing my attention back to him.

I fix him with the best glare I can muster, letting him know just how vile of a person I feels he is, how I want nothing to do with what he is about to tell me.

"After years of good old fashion abuse, our father finally realized that the best way to get my mother back for what had happened to Addison at the hands of her brother," Liam continues, fixing me with his own harsh look, "was to do to her own children what her brother had done to his."

Closing my eyes tightly at his words, I shake my head, trying desperately not to hear what he is saying, what he is revealing.

I try to drown out his voice, to do anything to leave this part of Sara's past as hers alone to share.

"He raped us, Catherine," Liam reveals, his words ripping violently through my ears, shattering everything inside of me. "He raped us more times than I can count."

I stop fighting, knowing it is pointless, that what I just heard will forever be burned into my psyche.

My God.

I had absolutely no idea.

Sara never once hinted about any of this, at how deep and dark the abuses in her house truly ran.

What she _had_ told me, was already more than dark enough.

More than horrifying enough.

But this.

My God.

Opening my eyes, I force myself to turn to look at Sara.

Watching her, I see her struggles diminish, and she now sits there almost completely numb, tears making their way silently down her face, eyes staring vacantly ahead of her.

It hits me suddenly that this is the first time I have ever seen Sara cry.

In all our time together, I have never once, until now, seen her cry.

"After awhile," Liam says quietly, his own eyes now watching Sara as well, "He tried to get me to transform from a victim to a transgressor. To be like him. To rape my own sister."

He turns his eyes back towards mine, but I keep my own focused solely on Sara.

"I wish I could tell you I didn't, Catherine," he says, his own voice nearly breaking. "I wish to God I could."

Taking a breath, he tries to compose himself, "But I was caught off guard that night, so confused and disgusted that I numbly followed his demands."

His voice shaking, Liam runs a hand through his hair. "I never felt so disgusted with myself as I did in that moment. I knew I was never coming back from that."

Taking a breath, Liam wipes absently at his face, and I wonder if he is now crying as well.

"I knew it had to stop, it had to end. And I knew there was only one way to accomplish it," he says, his voice now resigned. "The very next night, I got a knife from the kitchen."

"I got a knife and I ended it. I ended it all," he reveals in a near whisper.

I can see him shake his head, "I never wanted mom to see it, to take the blame. But I wasn't strong enough back then to stand up against her. I was nothing but a coward."

Finally, I turn my gaze towards him.

Meeting my eyes, his expression is haunted. "And, once she killed herself, there was no longer a point to confessing what I had done."

He shakes his head, "When I became a man, I knew I had to do something to pay for it, some penance to try to make up for my sins. So I got high, got myself arrested."

"But," he says quietly, "Even after years behind bars, I still felt as guilty as the day we were told by social services that our mother had hung herself from her bunk with a bedsheet."

He lets out a shaky breath, "I killed my own father, and essentially, I killed my own mother."

Clearing his throat, Liam seems to try to collect himself, taking a few deep breathes.

Reaching forward, he unties the gag around my mouth.

"I'm sorry for getting you involved in this," he says, voice sincere.

In that moment, I hear so much of Sara in his voice, see so much of her in his eyes, that I have to look away.

Focusing instead on the brunette so near me yet so far away, I watch as she continues to stare numbly out in front of her.

"Sara," I call.

No response.

"Sweetheart," I beg, "Look at me."

No response.

"I'm sorry," Liam says quietly, "But Sara deserved to know. You deserved to know."

"Not like this," I grind out. "Never like this."

Taking a breath, he shakes his head sadly.

"No, probably not," he says in quiet agreement. "But don't worry, it'll all be over soon anyway."

Eyes moving slowly from Sara towards him, I feel my heart sink in my chest at his chilling words.

"Liam…" I breathe out, terrified.

"Don't worry," he tells me, "Everything will be alright."

Without another word, he reaches under his shirt and pulls out a gun.

* * *

><p>"Liam," I call slowly, eyes darting between his face and the gun in his hand. "Stop, don't do this. No one else has to get hurt."<p>

Shaking his head, Liam fixes me with a look. It's a look that Sara has given me herself many times before.

A look that expresses a combination of sadness and resolve.

"I'm sorry," he says, "I really am. But this is how it has to be."

Kneeling in front of me, he pulls back the slide, loading the bullet into the chamber.

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

With one last look, he gets to his feet. Stepping around me, he looks at his sister, taking in her vacant expression, her shaking body.

Slowly, Liam reaches down and unties Sara's restraints, removing the gag from her mouth.

Keeping his gun trained on her, he watches as she remains sitting, her gaze distant, blood slowly trickling from her fingers as her wrists continue to bleed from the abrasions caused by the restraints.

"Sara," he calls, stepping away from her, keeping the gun aimed at her head.

Sara doesn't respond, and I am beginning to worry that she has slipped into shock. Hell, who am I kidding, it's glaringly clear that Sara has slipped into shock.

"Sara," he calls again, this time louder.

When she still doesn't respond, he changes tactics. Stepping up to me, he looks me in the eye.

"I'm sorry," he repeats for the third time.

Reaching behind me, he pushes harshly against the back of my head, fingers digging perfectly into the spot he hit me previously.

Despite my best efforts, I cry out, my head jerking away to the side.

Just like Chris before him, Liam knew exactly where Sara's Achilles heel is. Apparently, anyone who knows Sara knows that the best way to get to her is through me.

Immediately, Sara jumps to her feet, advancing on her brother with such speed that he barely has time to react.

As Sara takes a swing at him, he dodges the brunt of the blow, her fist glancing off his temple. It's still enough to knock him off balance, however, and she has her hands wrapped around his throat not a moment later, backing him against the bookshelf.

Her eyes are so dark, so empty, that I genuinely fear for her. Fear for what she is capable of in this moment that she would otherwise never do.

Before it becomes an issue however, I find Liam's gun pointed directly at my head.

"Sara," he grinds out, forcing the words past her hands threatening to choke the life out of him. "I'll shoot her in the head."

Sara's eyes narrow, but her hands remain fixed against his neck.

"I will kill Catherine," he states slowly, emphasizing the strangled words so she can understand what he is saying.

At the use of my name, Sara pauses, something deep in her consciousness telling her that she needs to pay attention.

Needs to pay attention to what he is saying, to what he is doing.

Shaking her head slowly, she loosens her grip, her eyes finally shifting to take in the weapon held in his hand.

Following the weapon's aim, her eyes travel until they end at mine.

The expression there, the emotions there, it nearly takes my breath away.

It's like I am looking at Sara, but not.

Everything that has transpired here, it has changed her deeply, torn the foundation of everything she thought she knew right out from under her.

I watched first hand as her already unspeakably horrific past, a past she has battled and struggled with throughout all the time that I have known her, revealed itself to be even more sinister than she ever imagined.

I genuinely worry, knowing the type of person that Sara is, that she may not come back from this.

So many things about Sara had already changed these past months, morphing her into a person spiraling downward into depths that I could not fathom.

I worried for her then.

I am terrified for her now.

"Good," Liam calls, seeing that he has her attention. "Do what I say, Sara, and she walks out of here."

Hearing his intentions, I shake my head.

I have watched him destroy the woman that I love, watched him shatter everything she held dear, watched him bring every one of her worst fears about herself to life.

"Sara," I call out, "Honey, listen to me…"

Eyes shifting almost imperceptibly, Sara's gaze focuses on mine.

In horror, I watch as she removes her hands from Liam's neck, her eyes still on mine.

"What do you want me to do?" she asks Liam.

Her voice is empty, and in that moment, I know that Sara has given up. She's given up on her will to make it out of this alive, genuinely not caring what happens to her.

I see her resignation, her acceptance.

I can see in her eyes that she feels that she is already lost, already conquered, that there is nothing left inside of her worth saving.

"Sara…" I try, desperately trying to reach her.

Shaking her head, she turns away from me, fixing her gaze on her brother.

"What do you want me to do?" she demands again.

Nodding, Liam moves towards me, keeping his gun leveled at my head as he fixes his gaze on his sister.

"Go to the kitchen, grab a knife from the set on the counter."

Without a word or moment of hesitation, Sara does as he asks, pulling a steak knife from the block.

Moving back into the room, she returns her gaze to his.

"I have something I need to do, what I came here for, but first I need to be sure that you won't ever forget what I told you here today," Liam tells her softly. "I need to know that you won't go back to your happy life like this never happened."

"I need you to remember," he says, his voice almost pleading with her.

I find myself shaking my head. How in the hell can he even suggest that Sara would ever forget what happened here today.

What he told her, what he revealed to her.

What he revealed _about_ her to the woman that she loved.

Sara doesn't say anything, simply watching him and keeping her gaze purposefully away from mine.

"Take the knife and place it against your forearm," Liam instructs her.

Not liking where this is going, I shake my head more emphatically.

"Sara, stop, don't do this…" I plead.

My voice might as well be falling on deaf ears. Neither Sara nor her brother reacts to my words, and it feels almost as if I am not even here.

At least not to them.

Wordlessly, Sara lifts the knife to her arm.

"On the inside of your forearm, below where your arm bends at the elbow, carve a horizontal line straight across."

Gripping the knife firmly in her right hand, Sara doesn't hesitate, dragging the blade across her left arm, a thick crimson trail following its path.

"Sara!" I call out. "Stop!" I beg.

Again, neither Sara nor her brother reacts.

Pulling against my restraints, I desperately try to free myself, divert their attention, anything.

"Good," Liam says to her. "Now, at the bottom of that line, I want you to draw a vertical line traveling down your arm in the direction of your wrist. Make it about half the length of the line you just made."

Sara places the knife accordingly, pushing the blade into her flesh, her expression not reacting to the pain as a new trail of blood springs forth and traces its way down her skin, dripping soundlessly to the carpet below.

Shaking, I find myself desperate to look away, desperate to stop watching this. To stop watching Sara carelessly and emotionlessly hurt herself.

But, I find myself unable and unwilling to do so.

I will not abandon her, will not be a coward and shelter myself from a reality that Sara has been forced into.

Looking at her arm, Liam nods. "Perfect. Now, when you look at that scar, you'll remember."

Furrowing my brows, I find my eyes widening as I realize what he has just done.

Essentially, he has just branded his own sister.

Forced her to carve an "L" into her own flesh so that she will never forget him or what he told her on this day.

As if reading my thoughts, Liam's gaze finally shifts to mine.

"Not me, Catherine," he says quietly. "The 'L' is for Laura. Our mother."

Without another word, Liam's gaze lifts back up to his sister's.

"I'm sorry, Sara," he tells her. "I really wish things didn't turn out this way, didn't have to be this way for us."

Sending her a small, sad smile, he shakes his head. "I really think we each could have been somebody great, done great things, if our lives weren't forced to be what they were."

Taking a breath, he locks his eyes on Sara's.

"I love you, baby sister," he says, his voice cracking with emotion. "I love you, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Without another word, before I have time to react, Liam's hand raises and points the gun directly to his own head.

Pulling the trigger, the deafening sound of a gunshot cracks through the air as his body falls silently to the ground.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: You guys are amazing beyond words. Thank you...really, you have no idea how much you inspire me. Hope you are all doing well. **

**And yes, sorry that I apparently like to write disturbing/depressing/etc types of things...I someday will give some thought as to what it says about me. But, for right now, take care and enjoy. :)  
><strong>

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 21<p>

"_I thought I lost you, until I realized with greater horror that I had actually lost myself."_

_-S. Writ_

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><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

The silence that followed the gunshot was one that I genuinely feared would last forever.

That is, until the screaming started.

Door crashing in, four cops are swarming into the livingroom before I have a chance to even take my widened eyes from the sight of Liam's body, lying lifeless near the bookcase.

"Put the knife down!" one of the cops yells, stepping towards Sara.

Sara doesn't move, doesn't react to the commotion around us, staring blankly at the body of her brother, blood slowly pooling out from his temple onto the carpet.

"Now!" the cop yells louder, his gun trained on the back of Sara's head.

"Stop!" I yell, finally breaking out of my own trance at the sight of Sara with a loaded service weapon aimed straight at her. "She's a CSI! She's one of you!"

The cop ignores me, clicking the safety off his weapon. It's clear that all he cares about right now is what he sees before him. Which, happens to be a woman tied to a chair, a man lying on the ground with a bullet through his head, and Sara standing there amidst it all with a blood stained knife in her hands.

"I'm not going to ask you again! Drop the knife!"

Sara watches Liam's body, the slow and shaking rise of her chest as she drags in strangled breaths the only sign of life coming from her own body.

Nodding to his backup officers, the cop holsters his weapon as the others take his former position, each aiming their gun straight at Sara's back.

Without a word and faster than I can comprehend, the cop grabs Sara's arm and slams her wrist down onto his knee, forcing the knife from her grip.

"What are you doing?" I yell, watching in horror as the cop pushes Sara roughly to her knees and pulls her arms behind her back. "She's the victim you mother fucker!"

Tightening his cuffs around her still bleeding wrists, the cop kicks the knife towards the other officers to secure.

"Get your hands off her!" I scream desperately, wondering why the hell no one is listening to me. "She's hurt! She's the victim! Leave her alone!"

Pulling Sara to her feet, the cop barely offers me a glance as he forces Sara towards the front door and out of the house.

"Where are you taking her?" I yell after them, yanking against my restraints. "She didn't do anything!"

Stepping behind me, one of the cops cuts me free as the others move towards Liam, barking orders into their radios. Immediately, I bolt for the door that Sara disappeared through just moments before.

"Hey!" someone yells as they grab me tightly, almost lifting my feet from the ground as I struggle against them.

"Let me go!" I demand, my voice cracking. "God damnit, let me go!"

"Catherine?" Brass demands, stepping into the room.

Making his way to me at a near run, he grabs my shoulders tightly.

"Catherine! Look at me, calm down!"

"They took her, Jim!" I yell at him, still pulling desperately against the hands holding me in place. "She didn't do anything!"

"Okay, okay," Jim calls, holding out his hands. "I'll get it straightened out, Catherine. Okay? I won't let anything happen to her, I promise."

Nodding to the officer behind him, Jim takes me into his arms the moment the officer lets go of me.

Holding me tightly, he weathers my fists against his chest, holding me as my knees give out and my screams of rage turn into screams of anguish.

"It's okay, Cath," Jim calls softly, holding my head firmly against his chest. "Everything is going to be alright."

* * *

><p>"And that's when he shot himself?" the officer asks for what has to be the third time.<p>

"Yes," I answer tersely, "Test the GSR."

The cop doesn't comment, writing in his notebook without even looking at me, just like he's been doing the whole time he's been here.

"And where was CSI Sidle when that happened?" he questions in a flat tone that almost sounds bored.

"Same place she was the last time you asked me."

Finally looking up, he sends me a quirked brow.

Letting out a breath, I shake my head. "She was standing across from him, approximately six feet away, facing him with her right side to the bookcase."

"Hold still," the nurse behind me comments, holding my head in place.

"You sure you don't need help with that?" Nancy asks, continuing to stand anxiously at the nurse's back, watching her every move.

"Positive."

Nancy narrows her eyes, watching each and every stitch as it goes into the back of my head.

"Can I see her?" I ask the cop impatiently. "Is she here?"

"I don't know."

"Where's Brass?"

"I don't know."

Taking a deep breath, I try not to rip the needle from the nurse's hand and insert it into the cop's jugular.

"Could you find out?" I question tightly.

Finally letting out a sigh of his own, the cop closes his notebook. "Gladly."

Apparently he was as anxious to be rid of me as I was of him.

Wincing as the needle pulls against my hair, Nancy is immediately behind me.

"Let go," she demands, all but shoving the nurse out of the way.

"Nance…" I try, already feeling her hands replacing the nurse's.

"You'll thank me later," Nancy offers, making quick work of the remainder of the gash along the back of my head.

Shooting daggers at my sister, the nurse tosses bloody gauze into a biohazard bag.

"I'll get your discharge papers."

Leaving as quickly as the cop just did, I know somewhere deep inside I should be feeling bad for treating these people so harshly when they are only trying to do their jobs. But, to be quite honest, it is taking all of my self control to even be here at all when I have no clue what's happening with Sara.

No clue where she is, what they're doing to her.

"Done," Nancy calls behind me, adjusting my hair back into place after securing a bandage over the gash.

"Thanks," I tell her warmly, immediately standing so we are facing each other.

"I need to find her," I get out.

Nancy nods, "_We_ need to find her."

Searching her eyes, I take a breath and try to thank her with my own. I simply don't have the words right now to do it justice.

Nancy simply nods in understanding, and I can tell from her own pale features that she is just as out of sorts as I am. I know she is still trying to process everything she's been told since the moment I was practically dragged here by Brass for medical treatment.

Looking around impatiently, Nancy eventually shakes her head.

"Screw the paperwork," she says. "Let's leave."

Eyes widening, I quirk my brow. "Can we do that?"

Nancy shrugs, "No one really looks at it anyway."

Shrugging myself, I grab my phone from the counter. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>"Why is she still here?" I question Brass in confusion the second I enter the police department after learning that's where Sara is at.<p>

Ushering me and my sister into a side room, Brass tries to give our conversation some privacy.

"They aren't charging her with anything so far, but won't agree to release her until the evidence from the gun is back."

Shaking my head, I run my hand through tangled hair.

"They act like they're doing some favor by not charging her," I state darkly. "But there's nothing to charge her with, she didn't do anything."

Brass takes a breath, placing his hand on my arm.

"I know that. You know that. But they need something more than just your statement before they release her," he tells me softly. "He used her service weapon to do it, Catherine."

"This is bullshit," I get out, feeling Nancy's hand place itself on my other arm.

Glancing over, her eyes are fixed on mine, and seeing her expression, some of my anger leaves me.

She's just as scared, just as angry, and my current approach absolutely is not helping anything or anyone.

Reaching over, I take her free hand in mine, giving it a squeeze of gratitude as I let out a slow breath.

Returning my gaze to Brass after a moment, I try to steady my emotions.

"Have they taken her statement yet?"

Something crosses Brass's expression, and he seems almost uncomfortable.

"They tried."

Furrowing my brows, I shake my head. "Tried?"

Taking a breath, Brass looks like he is struggling to control his own emotions.

"She's not responding to anyone," Brass offers quietly. "It's like she's not even there."

Closing my eyes, I fix them back on him when they open. "She's in shock, Jim."

Nodding, he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I know."

"Has she gotten medical attention?" I ask anxiously, having assumed she would have by now, but starting to wonder if that wasn't a false assumption.

"Yes, of course," he answers quickly, "I made sure of it."

"And?" Nancy asks, speaking for the first time, her own expression a bit more focused, more controlled.

"She should be alright," is his disconcertingly vague response.

I try to stay calm, try to be patient for when I can see Sara to determine for myself if she's okay.

Taking a deep breath, I ask another question that I'm not sure I really want the answer to.

"Has anyone found Mesa yet?" I breathe out, terrified at the thought of, on top of everything else, having to tell Sara that something happened to him.

Brass nods, sending me a small smile, "Yes, he was locked away in the garage."

I close my eyes, "And he's okay?"

"He's fine, he's with Doc Robbins. He and his wife offered to watch him until he can come home with you guys."

Breathing out, I pinch my temples. "Thank God."

Hearing a knock on the door, a middle-aged man steps in and hands Brass a case file. Glancing over at Nancy and I, he leaves the room as quickly as he entered it.

Opening the file, Brass quickly reads what is written there. After some very painful moments, he lets out a sigh of relief.

"She can go," he breathes out. "Evidence from the gun supports your account of events."

"Of course it does," I mutter under my breath, making my way immediately to the door.

Brass grabs his keys from his pocket and leads the way through the station towards the holding cells.

Reaching out, I take Nancy's hand in mine, not knowing what we're about to walk into, but knowing with absolute certainty this night isn't going to be easy for anyone involved.

Iron banging against iron, we step through the first of two security gates, waiting as Brass signs us in and fills out the necessary forms.

Making our way through the rows of holding cells, Sofia straightens up from where she was leaning against the wall.

Moving up to us, she sends me a nod before her attention goes to Brass.

"She's in 12B," she says quietly, pointing to the last cell on the right.

"Thanks," Brass nods, and I take hold of Sofia's arm as she moves past us.

"Thanks for staying with her," I offer, knowing that's exactly what Sofia was here doing, whether she would ever admit to it or not.

Sofia pauses, sending me a somber nod before walking away.

Steeling myself, Nancy squeezes my hand as we separate and close the final distance to cell 12B.

Stepping up to the bars, I see Sara sitting on the bunk, her feet drawn up as she stares at the wall across from her. She doesn't even look over as Brass unlocks the door.

Stepping hesitantly into the cell, Brass hands me a bag with Sara's possessions in it. Sending me a knowing look, he makes his way quietly out of the cell block.

Taking a breath, I cautiously approach Sara, not knowing in the least what the hell to do here. Things between Sara and I were complicated before all this, I don't even have words for what they are now.

What do you say to someone after their brother, their only remaining family member, kills themselves right in front of their eyes? What do you say to someone after you learn about the true extent of violence and abuse in their past? What do you say to someone who you turned your back on when you should have fought harder for them, fought harder for answers that you should have known all along?

Swallowing, I shake my head, focusing on the task ahead of me. There will be plenty of time for the rest later.

Taking a step towards Sara she doesn't react, and so I take another, and then another, until I am kneeling in front of her.

"Sar?" I question softly.

She doesn't move, eyes staring vacantly at the wall.

"Sara," I try again.

When she still doesn't respond, I tentatively reach out, very gently placing my hand on her back.

I don't know why, but it frightens me more when Sara doesn't even flinch than it would have if she had jerked away.

Reaching up, I run my fingers slowly through her hair, trying to still the pounding of my racing heart.

"Sara," I call. "Let's go home."

Still not responding, I feel Nancy kneel next to me.

"I think we're going to have to move her," Nancy suggests softly, her eyes haunted as they take in the sight before her, trying to keep herself together at seeing Sara like this. "I doubt she's even hearing you right now."

Nodding, I take a breath as I straighten up, Nancy following after.

Reaching over gently, I slowly turn Sara's body so her feet come to rest on the ground.

Looking over, Nancy meets my eyes before stepping to Sara's other side. Sending me a nod, we both take hold of an arm, slowly pulling Sara to her feet and hooking our arms around her waist.

Guiding her carefully, we make our way out of the cell blocks and out of the station, ignoring the curious eyes that follow us nearly the whole way.

Finally reaching my sister's Civic, Nancy places Sara in the back with her as I get behind the wheel.

Driving silently, we pull up to Nancy's house and direct Sara inside.

Once we make it through the doorway, Nancy moves ahead of us, flipping on lights and tossing her house keys onto the counter.

Turning back around, it's clear that we are both at a complete and utter loss for what to do.

"I want to look her over," Nancy tells me, eyes already taking in the bandages placed around Sara's wrists.

Nodding, I keep my grip on Sara firm, not confident that she would be able to support her own weight right now.

"Hold her steady?" Nancy asks.

"Yeah."

Reaching forward, Nancy gently makes her way from one cut to another, being sure that Sara's been taken care of properly.

"She had blood on her shirt before," I offer, gesturing with my chin to Sara's side. "Quite a bit of it."

Nodding, Nancy watches Sara's expression as she slowly lifts her shirt. Sara doesn't react at all, which only sets us further on edge.

Hearing my sister draw in a breath, I look down to see what got her attention.

"Jesus," I mutter, taking in the long gash along her side, already stitched up by someone at the station.

Looking further, Nancy finds couple more cuts, gently pressing against Sara's side where her skin is starting to bruise.

Pulling Sara's prison issued shirt back down, Nancy runs a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath to calm herself.

Swallowing, Nancy looks into Sara's eyes.

Reaching over, she flips the lights off and back on again, watching Sara's pupils.

"They're responsive, but she's clearly still in shock," she gets out, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Shouldn't she be at a hospital?" I ask seriously, growing more and more concerned every moment that Sara continues to stare vacantly ahead of her.

"Probably," Nancy states honestly. "But it's Sara."

I sigh, knowing the meaning behind her statement. That dragging Sara to a hospital would likely only make things worse for the brunette right now.

"So we do nothing?" I ask, not liking that idea either.

"We watch her," Nancy tells me. "We don't take our eyes off her until she comes out of this. And if things get worse, we get help."

Clenching my jaw at our deplorable options, I readjust my grip on Sara.

"I can stay with her tonight," Nancy offers quietly, clearly not knowing what the right thing to do or say is in regards to the situation between Sara and I.

I had filled her in somewhat at the hospital, gave her the basic gist about Liam, about the truth behind the pictures.

I didn't however, find it in me to share anything regarding Sara's past. Nancy knows there's a lot that went on that I'm not saying, but she's been respectful of my decision not to talk about it for now.

"No," I tell her quietly. "I want to be with her tonight."

Nodding, Nancy searches my eyes for a moment before turning away.

"I'll get her some clothes."

* * *

><p>Barely having time to react, I grab Sara just in time before she jerks completely off the bed.<p>

"Sara!" I yell, trying to keep my grip on her as she thrashes against me. "Stop!"

"Let go!" Sara yells, her voice tense and breaking with strain.

Pushing against me, Sara tries to get herself free.

"Don't touch me!" she yells out.

Lights flashing on, I blink against the brightness as my sister makes her way into the room at a near sprint.

"What the hell happened?" she asks me, trying to take in what's going on.

"She was asleep, and then she just started panicking!" I get out, trying to keep Sara from hurting herself.

"Sara…" Nancy calls, trying to help me restrain her.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Sara growls out, trying as hard as she can to get away.

"Sara," Nancy tries again, lifting her hands in surrender. "Look at me, Sara!"

Sara doesn't respond, pushing against me with such sudden force that I completely lose my grip.

Immediately, Sara backs away, placing herself flush against the wall, arm clenching tightly to her side.

"Sara…" I try, holding my own hands out in surrender as I slowly move towards her.

"Don't!" Sara yells lowly, "Don't you dare…"

Doubling over, Sara tries to stay on her feet, but her weakened leg isn't able to hold the awkward position, buckling under her and bringing her to her knees.

"Don't you fucking…"

Grabbing her side tighter, I watch as Sara starts to retch, her body throwing up anything she has inside of her. Which, as I watch her vomiting quickly transform into dry heaves, I realize isn't much.

Eyes meeting mine across the room, Nancy sends me a look.

I shake my head, not knowing what to do, what not to do.

What I _do_ know is that it's torture to simply stand here and watch Sara doubled over in pain, her body rebelling against her.

"Sara, please," I try again, but staying where I'm at.

Heaving turning to coughing, Sara's expression shifts as she furrows her brows in what appears to be confusion at the sound of my voice.

"Sweetheart, look at me," I try again, nearly begging.

Finally, the words seem to reach her.

When her eyes meet mine, it's all I can do to keep myself together.

They look so exhausted, so pained, so confused.

"Cath?" she questions, eyes narrowing as she takes in the room around her.

Eyes reaching Nancy, she looks even more uncertain.

"Sara," Nancy tries, also keeping her position and not trying to approach her. "You're at my house…you're okay…"

Looking down, Sara takes in her appearance.

As soon as her eyes reach the bandage wrapped tightly around her left forearm, she closes her eyes, her breathing coming to a near stop.

"Liam," she gets out, her voice strained.

No one says anything for a good couple minutes, Nancy and I standing there at an absolute loss, Sara struggling to force in one shaking breath after another.

"I'm sorry," Sara finally gets out, her eyes dragging up to Nancy and me. "For what he did…"

"My God," I mutter, taking a step closer and dropping to my own knees in front of her. "Sara, honey, don't you dare."

Shaking her head, Sara keeps one hand clenched on her side while the other moves to cover her face.

"He hurt you… kidnapped you…he made you listen…" her words draw short, her body shaking as she tries to keep herself from breaking down.

"Don't you dare finish that statement," I tell her sternly, tears making their way from my eyes. "Ever, Sara. Don't you _ever_ finish that statement."

No longer able to take it, I reach forward, grabbing Sara tightly and all but dragging her into my embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Sara," I get out, my own words choked with emotion. "I'm so sorry about your brother."

I may not know much about where we go from here – but the one thing I do know is that, in spite of everything that happened, everything that took place, Sara lost her brother tonight.

Regardless of the type of person he was or the mistakes in his life that he committed, he was her brother.

No one deserves to have to go through the things that they did. No one deserves to have to cope with the things that they did.

No one deserves to have to witness it all end the way that she did.

Body shaking against mine, I hold her tighter as an anguished sob makes its way from Sara's throat, her body finally surrendering to the emotion pouring through her.

"I'm so sorry," I repeat, knowing the words don't come close to making this okay. That nothing could ever come close to making any of this okay.

Clenching desperately to her as she is wracked with heart wrenching sobs, I close my eyes.

"Let it out, Sar," I whisper into her hair. "I got you, sweetheart."

Holding her tight, I feel my own tears mixing with hers, my heart trying not to shatter at the sight and sound of the strongest person I have ever met breaking down before me.

"I got you," I tell her, opening my eyes to raise them in silent prayer to anyone listening.

Help her, I beg.

Someone please help her make it through this.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: Hope everyone is doing well, thank you all for your continued support and taking the time to review. Can't thank you enough.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 22<p>

"_Sometimes the end is an illusion. Check for veiled paths beyond it."_

_T. Athoris_

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

Stepping to the kitchen counter, I keep my eyes fixed out the window as I pour some coffee into a mug.

Stirring the hot liquid, I glance down just long enough to be sure I'm not pouring sugar all over the place before I look back up. Taking my mug in hand, I quietly step out onto the back porch, closing the door behind me softly.

Taking in a slow, silent breath, I make my way to the railing, resting my coffee there as I pull my sweater tighter against the breeze.

It's about three o'clock in the morning, and the air is brisk and dark, the sun hours away from rising.

"Hey," I offer, not really knowing what else to say.

"Hey," Sara offers in response, her gaze remaining out in front of her.

"I made coffee," I tell her, knowing it's lame and ridiculous, but without a clue as to what else to say.

I'm at a loss for how the hell one handles a situation like this, what the 'right' thing to say is, what the 'right' thing to do is. I have no idea. All I do know is that Sara is one of the most cherished people in my life, and I have absolutely no clue how to help her right now.

Do I comment about last night? About what happened with Liam? Knowing Sara, the answer is likely no, for both. But it seems rude not to address it at all. Address what she's going through, what she went through.

"Thanks," Sara says quietly, her own thoughts clearly elsewhere.

Watching the stars together, neither one of us says anything more for quite some time.

Eventually, Sara takes a breath and finally turns her eyes towards mine. They still aren't quite meeting my gaze, but it's progress I suppose.

"Do you know when they're going to release the house?" she asks quietly.

Raising my brows, the question catches me so off guard that I have to replay it a couple times in my head to be sure I'm understanding it right.

"Oh," I eventually stutter out, "Uh, I'm not really sure."

Sara watches me a moment before returning her gaze to the night.

"You thinking of heading back there?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

She nods, eyes narrowing slightly against the glare of the moon as it passes out from behind a cloud.

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you need," I offer, feeling odd doing so. Maybe I was naive, but I had just assumed Sara would stay here for awhile until everything settled down.

I guess I assumed incorrectly.

"I know, thanks."

Her response is vague, much like the rest of this interaction between us. It's awkward, it's uncomfortable, and most of all it's heartbreaking.

"Sara," I breathe out, shaking my head. To hell with awkwardness, something needs to be said.

"I'm sorry about what happened with your brother. I'm sorry about everything that's happened in general."

Sara doesn't say anything, keeping her eyes locked on the horizon. The tension in her posture, however, betrays that the words have reached her, affected her.

Eventually, she shakes her own head.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry for."

I let out a sigh at her response, not thinking as I reach out to place my hand on her arm. Instantly, Sara jerks away from me, stepping quickly out of reach.

"Don't," she gets out, her voice barely a whisper but reaching my ears without difficulty.

Closing my eyes briefly against the wave of emotion that suddenly floods through me at her reaction, I keep my distance.

"Sorry," I eventually am able to get out.

Before I can get my thoughts together into anything coherent, the back door opens and Catherine angles her head out.

She's holding her cell phone, and her gaze is anxiously hovering on the brunette who now looks even more like she wants to be anywhere but here.

"Nance," Catherine says softly, her eyes still watching Sara. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Furrowing my brows in concern, I send a look of my own towards Sara before I nod.

"Of course."

One last glance at the brunette who is keeping her gaze planted out on the mountains that it's too dark to see, I take a breath and follow my sister back inside.

* * *

><p>"What's going on?" I ask Catherine the moment the porch door slides shut, her tense expression putting me on edge.<p>

"The hospital called," she gets out, hands pulling at her phone as she watches Sara through the kitchen window.

"And?" I question, not even able to hazard a guess to where this is going.

"And Liam's still alive."

Eyes widening in shock, I shake my head. Of all the places I could have potentially imagined this going, that sure as hell wasn't one of them.

"Wait, what?"

Catherine continues to watch Sara's back through the window.

"I just assumed…he shot himself in the head…I assumed he was already dead…he was in surgery…" she trails off for a moment.

"He's brain dead, Nancy, but they intubated him when they brought him in because he still had a pulse," she gets out.

Her eyes rise to mine, "So now he's on life support."

My eyes clench shut in a grimace.

"Fuck," I get out, shaking my head darkly. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I know what this means, I know _exactly_ what this means.

"This is bullshit," I tell Catherine, clenching my fists. "They can't do this to her!"

Grabbing me tightly by the arm, Catherine pulls me further into the house.

"Keep your voice down," she warns me, eyes anxiously looking out towards the porch.

"Why?" I nearly yell, unable to keep myself in check right now. "She's going to have to be told anyway! And you know why?" I demand.

Catherine lowers her gaze, closing her eyes. She knows exactly why.

"Because she's the one who's going to have to pull the fucking plug!" I yell, knowing that she already knows the answer, but unable to keep it inside. Keep the anger inside.

"Jesus!" I yell, "Like the world hasn't fucked with her enough!"

Before Catherine can comment, the back door slides open and Sara steps inside, eyes moving between Catherine and myself.

"Everything okay?" she asks, her expression hard to read. "I heard yelling…"

Letting out a breath, I try like hell to calm myself down.

"Sara," Catherine starts, her own voice strained. "Sweetheart, I need to talk to you."

Tightening her jaw, Sara's expression tenses, and I wonder if it's in response to Catherine's use of 'sweetheart' to address her. I can't even hazard a guess right now as to the state of Sara and Catherine's relationship.

I'm pretty sure neither can they.

"Just tell me," Sara says quietly.

"Sara, I really think we should-"

"Just tell me," she repeats, her eyes searching Catherine's.

They watch each other silently for a few moments before Catherine finally lets out a breath.

"I got a call from the hospital, they've been trying to reach you."

Sara nods, her eyes moving towards me before making their way back to Catherine.

"And?"

Catherine swallows, trying not to look away from Sara's gaze.

"And Liam's on life support."

The room is so silent in the minutes that follow that I can hear each and every breath that's taken, hear the sounds of the oblivious world outside, hear my heartbeat hammering in my chest.

"Okay," Sara eventually states, her expression impossible to decipher.

"Honey, they need-"

Jaw tight, Sara shakes her head.

"I know what they need."

Catherine lets out a breath, eyes closing as she fights to hold it together right now, to not lose control of herself or her emotions in front of Sara.

Sara, for her part, is eerily stoic, looking around until she spots my keys on the counter.

Snatching them before she can even think about it, I shake my head darkly as I make my way to the front door.

"I'll drive," I barely get out as I step out into the night.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"Miss Sidle?" the nurse questions, shuffling through a number of forms in her hand.

Standing, Sara nods, "I'm Sara Sidle."

"Do you have some identification on you?" she asks, writing something down on one of the papers.

Sara looks down, hands moving towards her pants. Then, almost immediately, she realizes that she's wearing a pair of Nancy's scrub pants that she loaned her last night when she got released.

"No," she says hesitantly. "I don't actually."

The nurse looks up, quirking a brow. Then, seeing Sara, her single brow raise turns to two. I can only imagine what this nurse thinks right now, seeing Sara's appearance. Seeing the cut across her left eyebrow, the gash in the corner of her bottom lip, the pale features, the even paler bandages just barely poking out from the sleeves of her black sweater.

Assessing Sara for another moment, the nurse takes in a breath. "Can you tell me your social security number and your personal identification information?"

"I can try," Sara offers.

With one final glance, the nurse steps up to the nearest computer.

"Social?" she prompts.

"38-55-0137."

"Date of birth?"

"September 15, 1979."

"Place of birth?"

"Tamales Bay, California."

"Mother's maiden name?"

Sara stiffens slightly, but keeps her expression neutral.

"Tannahill."

Typing in a few things, the nurse glances up.

"That'll do for now, but you're going to need formal identification before any official actions can be taken."

Sara nods, and Nancy is already out the door to figure out a way to get Sara's driver's license from inside the house currently being secured as a crime scene.

It's amazing how the small details like proper identification get completely forgotten when you are dealing with something like this.

"Doctor Furth will be out to meet with you shortly to discuss the situation with you," the nurse tells Sara, already walking away before she can respond.

I would curse her complete lack of sensitivity if it weren't ironically the best conceivable way of approaching the situation for someone like Sara. Sara isn't the type to have responded well to a nurse who pitied or attempted to comfort her. Sara is the type to want only facts, competency, efficiency.

Turning, Sara looks around briefly before making her way back to the waiting area.

It's clear that she's uncomfortable, and I absently wonder how much of that has to do with me.

Taking in a deep breath, I stand, slowly making my way towards where Sara is leaning against the wall.

I don't say anything, don't crowd her, but I stand by her, not having it in me to do anything else right now. There's no way I'm not standing by her side for something like this.

Whether we're still together or not.

* * *

><p>After awhile, an older doctor comes around the corner.<p>

"Miss Sidle?" he questions, looking between the two of us.

Sara steps forward, accepting his offered hand.

"Dr. Furth," he introduces himself.

"Sara Sidle."

Nodding, he gestures for us to follow him down the hall. Before we enter the room, I turn to Sara.

"Do you mind if I come in with you?" I question genuinely.

I don't know what we are to each other anymore, and I don't want to be presumptuous. I honestly don't know what I would do if Sara says no, though.

Shaking her head, Sara's eyes briefly meet mine. "It's fine."

Nodding, we enter the room together, taking a seat in front of a simple desk in what appears to be his office.

"First, I'm sorry we're meeting under these circumstances," Dr. Furth offers, directing this conversation to Sara.

Sara nods, holding tightly to the arms of her chair.

"I'm going to get straight to the point," Dr. Furth tells her, putting his pen down. "Your brother is clinically brain dead, and is on full life support at this current time. I think you know what I'm here to talk to you about."

Nodding, Sara takes a breath. "Whether to take him off life support."

Dr. Furth nods slowly, watching Sara carefully, trying to gauge her reaction to all this.

"I know this is a lot to think about, a very difficult decision…." Dr. Furth trails off, continuing to try to read Sara.

Good luck, I want to tell him.

"Actually it's not," Sara cuts in, running her hands down her legs. "It's not a difficult decision."

Eyes widening slightly at the unexpected response, Dr. Furth quirks his head to the side.

"Had you discussed your brother's wishes with him previously?" he asks.

I want to shake my head at his ridiculous question, but I'm stopped short when Sara answers.

"Yes," she says seriously, catching me completely off guard.

Turning to face her, I try to keep my face neutral against the emotions running through me. What brother and sister discuss their end of life decisions with one another when they're barely yet in their 30s?

The kind that grow up in abusive households, I remind myself. The kind that live through the murder of two of their family members and the suicide of two others. The kind that were forced at a young age to look at life, and death, differently than the rest of us.

"He didn't want anything done," she says quietly. "No life support."

Nodding with a long exhale, Dr. Furth watches Sara.

"And are you okay with that?" he asks her, still trying to figure her out.

Sara shrugs.

"Doesn't matter what I'm okay with," she tells him simply.

He watches her, eyes not giving in.

Finally, Sara lets out a sigh.

"I don't know if I'm okay with it, to be honest," she offers. "But the one thing I'm _not_ okay with is going against what I know he would have wanted."

Taking in her answer, Dr. Furth eventually nods.

"Are you ready to proceed then? Or would you like some time?" he asks quietly.

Tensing, Sara pulls herself to a stand. "I'm ready."

He watches her for a moment more before standing and moving around the desk. "I'll go make sure all of the paperwork is in order and that your identification has been received, you can both wait here."

He leaves, and I know he was doing it just as much to really get the papers in order as he was to give Sara a moment, whether she is willing to admit to needing one or not.

Watching her, I stand slowly, taking a hesitant step in her direction.

"Sara?" I question, feeling so incredibly distant from her right now and absolutely hating it.

I want to hold her, want to comfort her, want to do _anything_ for this woman that I still care so much about. But I honestly don't know if I have that right anymore. If she would even want that from me anymore.

Eyes glancing up to mine, Sara tries to keep hers there as long as she can before looking away.

She doesn't last more than a couple seconds.

"I'm sorry, Cath," she offers quietly. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say…"

Shaking my head, I step just a bit closer.

"Neither do I," I tell her honestly.

Looking over, Sara nods, her expression just a shade more open.

Searching her eyes, I eventually let out a breath.

"I want to hold you," I confess in a whisper. "I want to hold you so badly right now, Sara."

Watching her, I see a myriad of emotions pass through her eyes, her body trying to control them as they run through her.

Seeing her look away, she takes a breath before she turns back to face me.

Before she can respond, however, Dr. Furth steps back into the room, placing forms across the desk.

"Go ahead and sign these whenever you're ready," he tells her softly.

Our eyes still locked, Sara and I watch each other until Sara finally draws her gaze away, stepping up to the desk and picking up the forms with a deep breath. Looking through them, her jaw clenches and unclenches tightly as she makes her way through the pages.

Reaching out, she pulls a pen from a mug and signs her name in what has to be over a dozen different places. Handing the papers and the pen to Dr. Furth, she runs her hands through her hair.

"Ready?" she asks, and I know Sara well enough to know that she is dangerously close to breaking right now.

It's the set of her jaw, her posture, the expression in her eyes, all of it.

Nodding, Dr. Furth directs us out of his office and down a series of hallways.

Absently, I wonder if Sara should be walking this much yet, watching her limp which looks like it is threatening to send her to the floor at any moment.

Shadowing her closely, I stand by in case she needs me, but we come to our destination before it becomes an issue.

"This can be done as soon or as late as you want it," Dr. Furth tells her, hand on the door.

"Do it now," Sara requests quietly. "He would want it done now."

Dr. Furth nods, holding the door open for us as we step into the room.

As soon as I see Liam, I know immediately I will forever replay this image in my head. It would be so much easier if he looked different, if he looked more like a former convict who held me hostage. It would be so much easier if he didn't look so damn much like Sara.

Turning off the monitors, Dr. Furth steps up to the machines surrounding Liam's body and one by one shuts them down.

The silence that fills the room as their hums and whirring cease is absolutely deafening.

"This may take awhile," he warns Sara softly. "I'm around if you need anything."

"Thanks," Sara tells him numbly, eyes glued to her brother.

Nodding, he sends me a brief nod as well as he steps out of the room.

* * *

><p>"How is she?" Nancy asks as soon as I make my way back out into the waiting room, giving Sara some privacy for a few minutes.<p>

Taking a seat next to her, I shake my head, not able to form words to describe the situation right now.

Running my fingers through my hair, I clench tightly to my scalp.

"I don't know what to do," I confess to my sister, my voice wavering. "I don't know what to do for her."

Closing my eyes, I grind my teeth together.

"I can't just keep fucking _sitting there_ watching this not being able to _do _a damn thing to help her!"

Shaking my head, I clench my fists tightly.

"I can't even touch her, take her hand – nothing!"

I pound my fist against the seat of the chair, emphasizing my words.

"I screwed up with her, I fucked everything up and now this is how things are between us!" I grind out. "Her brother is dying and I'm sitting there like we barely know each other!"

I clench tightly to my jeans.

"It's disgusting…it's wrong…"

Reaching down, Nancy quickly pulls me to my feet, directing us both out of the busy waiting room.

Pushing a metal door open, Nancy pulls me through it into a deserted stairwell.

Before I know what is happening, I am completely breaking down, tears falling from my face in rivers as I let out a sob that quickly turns into dozens more.

Folding me into her arms, I cling desperately to my sister, needing to feel human contact right now, needing to not feel so isolated.

"Shh," Nancy tells me, hand softly running through my hair, careful to avoid my stitches. "Alright, Cath. It's alright."

Holding me tightly, Nancy keeps me in her arms until my sobs slowly abate, my body feeling like it has nothing left in it to cry out.

Holding me out at arm's length, Nancy takes my face in her hands, gently wiping the tears from my cheeks with her thumbs.

Leaning forward, she places a kiss against my forehead.

"I love you," she tells me softly. "I'm here for you through all of this, Cath. You're not alone."

Fixing me with a look, Nancy shakes her head. "And neither is she."

I let out a breath, "It certainly feels like she is."

"It's complicated for her right now," Nancy tells me. "For all of us."

Continuing to hold me close, Nancy eventually takes a breath.

"You ready to go back out?" she asks me seriously.

Taking a deep breath of my own, I nod, straightening out my clothing.

"I'm ready."

Squeezing my hand, Nancy leads the way back out to the waiting room.

* * *

><p>"Excuse me?" I question, getting the attention of a nurse behind the desk.<p>

"Yes?" she asks, scribbling a note on a scrap of paper.

"Do you know where the woman went who was staying with the patient in room 115?"

Glancing down the hall, the nurse quirks a brow. "What woman?"

"Tall, brown hair, thin," I suggest before letting out a sigh. "Looks like she's been in a car accident…"

Instantly, the nurse nods, "Oh, her! Yes, she left about five minutes ago."

My expression dropping, I shake my head.

"Left?" I question, my heart starting to race.

"Oh, no," she responds. "Left, like went outside for a cigarette."

Hand rising to my chest in relief, I take a deep breath. "Which way?"

Gesturing to the sliding doors to my left, I thank her and make my way out of the hospital.

Heading outside, I squint my eyes against the sun that is barely starting to rise over the horizon, catching sight of Sara leaning against a cement wall overlooking the parking lot.

Moving to her side, I watch the horizon with her for a moment before I decide that I cannot take it any longer. I cannot force myself to pretend like Sara is just an acquaintance to me right now.

I don't know what we are, but we sure as hell are more than that. Even after everything that happened between us, she is sure as hell more than that. She will always be more than that.

"Are you doing okay?" I ask her, keeping my eyes on the sky, not wanting her to feel encroached upon any more than necessary.

"Yeah," she answers automatically. "I'm fine."

"Sara…" I breathe out, finally turning to face her. "You don't have to do that."

Sara furrows her brows, breathing out smoke into the early morning air.

"Do what?"

"Pretend like everything's okay," I tell her softly. "Pretend like you're okay."

Sara doesn't comment, turning her head to exhale the remainder of the smoke away from me.

"Catherine," she eventually says, her voice heavy. "You don't have to do this either."

Now it's my turn to be confused.

Turning to me, Sara searches my eyes a moment before shaking her head.

"You don't have to do _this_," she explains, gesturing between our bodies. "Us."

Her eyes grow heavy as well.

"You made it clear that there is no 'us' anymore," she tells me quietly. "You shouldn't feel obligated to be here because of what's happened now with Liam. Nothing's changed."

Letting out a breath, I shake my head in disbelief.

"Nothing's changed?" I question. "Everything's changed…"

"Has it?" she questions in return.

"Of course it has," I respond, eyes wide. "You never cheated…"

"But you thought I did," she cuts me off. "We both did."

Her eyes grow unreadable, the emotions there so heavy it's hard to isolate a single one.

"Just because it turned out not to be true doesn't take that away. Doesn't take away the fact that we both believed it."

"There were pictures," I tell her, my tone confused. "Of course we believed it."

Shaking her head, Sara shifts her weight.

"There were pictures, but then there was _us. _Our relationship. We should have questioned it," Sara gets out. "We should have fought harder for a relationship we claimed to care so much about."

Her eyes match mine.

"We should have just _known_, Catherine."

"No, Sara," I correct her. "_I_ should have known. If anyone should have fought harder, it was me. And I am so sorry about that, I cannot tell you how-"

Sara shakes her head, cutting off my words before I can complete my apology. "It's fine. It doesn't matter."

Shaking my own head, I watch her closely, trying to figure out what is going on with her right now.

"Of course it matters, Sara," I get out.

Taking a small step closer to her, I watch her body tense as I do so.

"Why are you doing this? Saying this?" I ask, my voice a mere whisper.

Searching her eyes, I take another small step forward, watching as this time she steps slightly back.

"No," I correct myself with sudden clarity after another moment of silence. "I know why you're doing this. I know _exactly_ why you're doing this."

I stop trying to approach her, shaking my head instead.

"Try to push me away all you want, Sara," I tell her. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sara turns to me darkly, jaw tightening. "I'm not pushing you away."

I shake my head sadly.

"Yes you are…"

"No," Sara counters, expression tight. "I'm not pushing you away because there's no point to that."

Eyes fixed on mine, she keeps our gazes locked.

"There's no point because you already walked away."

Heart clenching tightly at her words, I feel stomach sink somewhere near my feet. My body starts to go numb, my thoughts all but paralyzed.

I know what she's doing, what she's trying to do, that she doesn't mean what she's saying, but it still hurts.

And it hurts because she's absolutely right. I walked away. I walked away all too easily from the woman that I loved, so easily falling into the trap that Liam had set for us, for her.

Amidst all the things he said yesterday, he was absolutely right about one thing.

Sara would have fought. She would have fought for me.

"I'm sorry, Sara," I tell her quietly, not knowing what else there is to say to her in spite of its inadequacy.

Eyes shifting, she sees that her attempts to distance me from her in this manner have failed. Narrowing her eyes, she shakes her head instead.

"It's fine," she breathes out. "Don't apologize to me. You were right to walk away from someone you thought cheated on you."

"The point is, I should have known you never did. Never would."

Sara doesn't comment for awhile, watching the oranges and pinks spreading across the sky.

"Doesn't matter anyway," she says, repeating words I have heard her use entirely too many times in this conversation for my comfort. "Doesn't take away the drugs."

"No it doesn't," I agree, watching her profile as she attempts again to push me away, this time using the second topic revealed in those photos. "And trust me when I say we will talk about that, Sara, but not here, not now. Right now I'm here to help you through this with Liam, we can figure out the rest later."

Sara tenses, her eyes shifting downward. There is a long silence between us, and my heart beats faster with every moment it stretches on.

"I don't think I can, Catherine," Sara finally gets out, her tone strained.

Eyes lifting to mine, she rubs her temples with her free hand.

"I don't think I can do this with you here," she finally admits honestly to me, her eyes holding so much sadness that it's taking everything in me right now not to reach out to her. "I'm sorry…"

It's clear that she has stopped trying to push me away, to get me to walk away from her again. Now, she's decided to simply level with me, to _ask_ me to walk away, and I'm finding the truth much harder to bear than all the words before it.

"I'm so sorry," she repeats, her eyes regretful. "But I can't let you see this. Can't let you see me like this right now, see me when it happens…"

"Sara," I practically beg. "Please don't do this. Don't ask me to make you go through this alone."

"Not 'make', Catherine," she corrects me softly. "Let. I'm asking you to _let_ me do this alone."

Her eyes search mine for understanding.

"Please."

Closing my own eyes against her hazel gaze, I shake my head. I can't believe this is what she wants. But, knowing Sara, I know it's likely exactly what she wants.

She's never been good at accepting help, at letting people see her at her lowest points. Why should now be any different? Especially after everything that's happened between us, I can see how having me and Nancy around right now could simply be too much for the brunette.

But, it absolutely rips my heart apart to think of her alone in that hospital room, waiting by herself for her brother to die.

Looking up, I observe her closely, my eyes watching hers as though I can somehow find the answers for what to do there.

"Do you really mean this, Sara?" I ask her seriously. "Would it really be easier for you if we weren't here?"

In the end, if she is being genuine, I know I have to put my own feelings aside and grant her what she is asking. Even if it will tear me apart inside to do so.

"It would," she confesses, her eyes leaving mine in what appears to be shame.

"I'm sorry," she breathes out. "I know it's a horrible thing to say. I'm so sorry…"

Shaking my own head, I take a deep breath, pushing my own feelings back down.

"Babe, look at me."

Trying to hold herself together, Sara brings her eyes back to mine, her body literally shaking with the emotion she is holding inside.

Slowly, I reach forward, making sure she can see my movements and my intentions. Reaching her face, she flinches slightly under my touch, but forces herself to remain still.

Holding her face in my hand, I run my thumb across her cheekbone, eyes transfixed on hers.

"I'll get Nancy," I quietly say, not knowing what other words there are.

Sara closes her eyes. "Tell her I'm sorry."

"Stop," I correct her. "Stop apologizing for being honest."

It's taking everything in me not to pull her into a hug, to hold her.

With a deep breath, I pull my hand away, taking a step back.

"If you change your mind, I'm a phone call away."

She nods, her eyes heavy as she watches me.

We both know she won't change her mind.

"Please take care of yourself," I whisper.

She nods again, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"You too, Catherine," she tells me. "I promise to call you."

She doesn't elaborate, but she doesn't have to. She's telling me she'll call me when it's over. When Liam's dead.

I nod, sending her one last look before I turn and walk away, knowing with certainty that if I stay any longer, stand here with her any longer, I won't be able to find it in me to do so.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: Thank you guys so much for your continued reviews/interest. You keep me writing. Sorry for the slightly longer gaps between updates - work has been kicking my tail these past weeks and it seems like I haven't had the time to breathe let alone write/post. Trying my best, thanks for your patience. And yes, we will see more of the team here and there in later chapters - Brass and Sofia especially.**

**Take care and enjoy.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 23<p>

"When the world crumbles at your feet, do not misplace the pieces. You never know their potential to be rebuilt."

-Anonymous

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"Willows."

"Cath, it's me."

Oh thank God. Nancy and I have been sitting anxiously at her kitchen table for the past four hours, trying to think about anything other than the Sara alone at the hospital.

At first we vented our feelings on the matter to one another, but then that quickly transformed to the anxious silence that permeated the whole house for the remainder of the time.

"Sara," I breathe out. "How are you doing?"

"It's over," she tells me, ignoring the rest.

"Okay," I respond quietly, not really sure what the appropriate response here is. "What can I do?" I ask instead.

"Do you mind if…" Sara trails off, and I can practically see her running her hand through her hair. "Do you mind if I come over?" she finishes quietly, her voice strained.

"Of course not," I tell her immediately, my eyes closing in relief at her request, at her willingness to voice her request in spite of how hard I know it must have been for her to do so. "Do you want me to pick you up?"

I can hear her take a breath, trying to steady herself.

"No, I'll find a ride, thanks."

"Okay," I give in, picking my battles.

"See you in a little bit," she tells me before hanging up.

Closing my cell, I place my phone numbly on the table.

Looking up, Nancy is watching me nervously.

"She's coming over," I tell her.

"Is he…?"

"Yes."

She nods silently, taking in a long breath.

"I'll put on some coffee," Nancy eventually states, getting up to keep herself occupied as we wait for Sara to arrive.

* * *

><p>Hearing a knock, Nancy's eyes move to mine.<p>

Without a word, I get up and make my way quickly to the door.

Opening it, Sara and I simply watch each other for a moment, neither one of us moving nor speaking.

Clearing my throat, I pull myself together.

"Come in," I tell her, backing away from the door.

Sara steps inside, hands rubbing anxiously against the side of her pants.

Not able to take it any longer, I reach forward and pull Sara into my embrace.

At first her body is stiff against mine, clearly caught off guard by my action. But, slowly, she moves her arms to reach around my back and return the gesture.

Holding her tightly, I close my eyes, fighting against all the emotions this embrace elicits from deep within me.

"I'm here," I whisper into her hair. "Please know that I'm here for you."

"I know," Sara replies quietly.

Holding each other awhile longer, Sara eventually pulls back, but keeps her body somewhat close to mine.

It's progress, I remind myself.

"Thanks," she offers, her eyes thanking me as well as her words.

I nod, "Always."

Eyes shifting from mine, Sara looks over as my sister makes her way further into the room.

"Hey," Nancy offers, a bit hesitant as she slowly comes to a stop a bit behind me.

"Hey," Sara responds, sending her a nod.

"Want some coffee?" Nancy asks, looking Sara over and trying to be subtle about it.

"Yeah, thanks."

We make our way into the kitchen, no one saying anything as our drinks are prepared. Taking our seats at the table, Sara takes a couple swallows, closing her eyes as she does so.

When she reopens them, she finds both our gazes on her.

Letting out a breath, she puts her coffee down.

"I'm sorry," she offers quietly. "I'm not really ready to…"

She trails off, and both Nancy and I are shaking our heads, breaking our intense gazes from her.

"No, it's fine," I tell her sincerely. "You don't have to say anything until you're ready."

Sara nods, turning her mug slowly in her hands.

"How's your side?" Nancy asks, changing the topic as she gestures to Sara's slightly awkward posture.

I'm sure the topic isn't an ideal one for her, but it likely beats the previous one.

"I don't know, to be honest," Sara says with a slightly abashed expression. "I haven't felt the urge to look."

Nancy shakes her head, not able to help the slight grin pulling at her lips.

"Well, judging from the dye job you've given my shirt, I would suggest perhaps letting me take a look at it…"

Looking down, Sara pulls her sweater open to reveal the University of Montana t-shirt Nancy loaned her below it. Seeing the deep crimson streak of red across the material, Sara shakes her head.

"Shit, I'm sorry," she tells my sister. "I didn't even realize."

"Hey, I owed you a shirt, remember?" Nancy tells her in response. "From that day I made you spew your coffee all over yourself when I asked you if you were pregnant?"

"You asked her _what?_" I blurt out, my voice raising a good couple of octaves, eyes darting between the two of them.

Grin pulling at her own lips now as well, Sara shrugs.

"Don't worry, it was just a scare. I started menstruating again the next day."

Nancy bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her own coffee all over herself.

"Sweet Lord," I mutter. "The two of you together sometimes is like being stuck with the kids in class who ate too much paste."

Sara tries not to smile, shaking her head.

The moment of levity doesn't last much longer, but it was enough. It was enough to break the spell that had previously been over all of us, the awkwardness that had seemed to permeate all of our interactions up until now.

I know the tension will soon return, but for right now, it feels good to not be quite so on edge.

"On your feet," Nancy commands, already standing and moving towards the center of the kitchen.

Sighing, Sara sends me a look before doing as Nancy says.

Shrugging out of her sweater, I take the item from her, carefully folding it and trying to resist the urge to wrap myself up in it. I've missed Sara so much these past weeks, having her so close yet still out of reach is nearly maddening on my senses.

Lifting Sara's t-shirt, Nancy makes a face as she takes in the sight before her. Glancing over, I grimace as well.

"Sara, you pulled nearly all your stitches," Nancy tells her, gently probing the gash along her side with her fingers.

"It's fine," Sara tells her, assessing the injury with her own eyes as well.

Nancy quirks her brow, shooting Sara a look.

"Are my organs going to fall out of it if it doesn't get re-stitched?" Sara asks her in response to her look.

"No, but-"

"Then it's fine," Sara cuts her off.

Shaking her head, Nancy rolls her eyes. "Fabulous litmus test you got there."

Hearing them badger each other would normally annoy the crap out of me, but hearing it right now is exceedingly reassuring. It's a reminder of the way things used to be for us, before ruses about infidelity, before revelations of drug abuse, before suicides and life support machines.

It's a glimpse of the life, of the relationships, that we used to have with each other, and, perhaps, may someday have again.

Perhaps.

"Hold this," Nancy directs Sara, pushing the hem of her shirt into her hand so that Sara is holding her shirt up.

Moving further into the house, Nancy disappears out of sight.

Quirking a brow, Sara and I exchange a look. I desperately try to keep my eyes on hers, try to keep them from wandering down her exposed torso.

I want to reach out to her so badly, to take her in my arms and feel her body with my hands. The body that I used to know so intimately.

The body that now holds new scars from events that ripped us so very far apart.

"You okay?" Sara asks me quietly, searching my eyes.

"Yeah," I tell her, trying to snap out of my thoughts. "Just thinking."

"You sure?" she questions.

"I'm sure," I tell her, offering her an appreciative smile, while at the same time hating myself for the fact that she's standing bloodied and injured in front of me and yet she's the one asking _me_ if _I'm_ alright. "Thanks."

Nodding, Sara watches me a moment more before her gaze is drawn back to Nancy as she reenters the room.

Pulling out a number of alcohol wipes from her first aid bag, Nancy tosses the wrappers on the counter.

"This is going to hurt," she warns Sara. "A lot."

Sara nods, not looking all that concerned.

When my sister makes contact, however, Sara's body tenses, which in turn causes her legs to stiffen and nearly give out on her.

"Woah," Nancy calls, grabbing for Sara the same time I do.

"Shit," Sara curses, shifting her weight to her good leg and trying to regain her balance.

Holding her from behind, I'm reluctant to let go, not sure of how steady Sara is on her feet right now with everything she's been through.

"Keep holding her tight," Nancy directs me, shaking her head darkly at Sara when it looks like she is about to protest about her ability to stand on her own.

Nodding, I keep my grip on her firm, ignoring the feel of our bodies pressed so closely together.

Reaching forward, Nancy resumes cleaning Sara's gash, and I hold her securely against me as I feel her body tense when the alcohol makes contact with the open and torn skin.

Sara doesn't say a word about being in pain, but the stiff tension in her body gives her completely away.

"Almost done," Nancy calls, perhaps also sensing Sara's discomfort.

Reaching over, she grabs a bottle of liquid sutures, applying it efficiently to the edges of the torn skin.

"Alright," Nancy says, standing and carefully helping Sara readjust her shirt.

"You okay?" I ask Sara, not wanting to let go until I know she isn't going to drop to the floor the moment I do so.

"Yeah," she tells me. "I'm good."

I think 'good' is being much too generous to describe her current condition right now, but I slowly remove my hold on her, watching as she thankfully remains upright.

A bit unsteady, but upright.

"Why don't you go ahead and grab a shower, get some of that blood off of you?" Nancy suggests. "Those sutures are waterproof, so don't worry about getting them wet."

Sara nods, looking grateful for the opportunity to gather her bearings.

"I'll find you some fresh clothes," I offer, already heading towards Nancy's guest room where I have stashed most of my stuff.

I hear Nancy directing Sara to the shower, and the bathroom door closing a minute or so later.

Coming back out into the living room, Nancy and I look at each other a moment before we both sigh.

"I…she…" I start, but quickly trail off when I have no words to follow. Shaking my head, I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"I know," Nancy tells me simply.

"She's not okay," I tell her, keeping my voice low. "Physically, mentally. She can put up a good front, but she's not okay."

"I know," Nancy replies again.

"I just…" I trail off, shaking my head.

Stepping forward, Nancy draws me into her arms, both of us needing the support right now.

"She's always been the one holding us together," I tell my sister quietly. "She deserves the same support she's always given us."

"She does," Nancy agrees. "But she has to let us, Catherine. You can't force her to accept our help or let us in if she's not willing."

I sigh, closing my eyes against Nancy's shoulder.

"I know, but I wish to hell I could."

I feel Nancy laugh, "I've thought that since the moment I met her."

Letting out a smile of my own, I pull away from Nancy after one final squeeze.

"Thank you," I tell her sincerely. "I don't know how I would do this without you."

"She's my friend, you're my sister," she offers simply as explanation.

Hearing the shower shut off, we both separate, taking deep breaths and straightening out our clothing.

"I'm going to sleep out here tonight," Nancy tells me quietly. "In case either of you need anything."

Nodding, I sigh. "I'm going to try to stay with her in your room, if she'll let me."

Nancy sends me a supportive look, not commenting further as we hear the bathroom door open.

* * *

><p>"Hey," Sara offers, moving into the room. "I put your clothes in the hamper."<p>

"Thanks," Nancy tells her, eyes moving to Sara's exposed arms, no longer covered with the bandages they were before.

Clenching her jaw, I can tell Nancy is trying hard not to comment, not to react to what is now revealed to her.

The ligature marks. The gashes along the inside of her forearm that form an "L".

Clearing my throat, I step forward and move to clean up our coffee mugs from the kitchen.

"You can have Nancy's room with me tonight, Sara," I tell her casually, rinsing the mugs in the sink. "There's a ton of junk in the guess room."

I don't have the heart to mention that actually my belongings are currently in the guest room from when I moved out of our house. From when I left her.

"I can take the couch," Sara immediately offers. "Or stay somewhere…"

Finally, Nancy breaks her position.

"No," she tells Sara bluntly. "You're staying here."

Sara doesn't comment, eyes moving between Nancy and myself.

No one says anything for a bit, until Sara takes a breath.

"Fine. And I actually have a favor to ask…"

Immediately, Nancy and I are giving her our full attention.

"I need to head into the station tomorrow morning to give Brass my statement. But I don't really have a car right now…"

I furrow my brows.

"Couldn't he have given you some more time?" I question. "Seems a bit soon…"

Shaking her head, Sara moves and reaches out to dry the mugs now sitting on the counter.

"I spoke with him earlier. Offered to come in."

I know Sara, and so I suspect her 'offering' was much more likely her requesting. Sara isn't one to sit around very well, and I can see her putting the pressure on Brass to get everything out of the way so she can return to work as soon as possible.

I don't even know what to think about the idea of her back at work.

All I know is that it scares me to death.

Sara needs to take time to deal with everything that's happened, to try to rush her recovery is only asking for disaster down the line.

"I can take you," I immediately offer, knowing I will use the opportunity to speak with Brass myself while we are there.

"Thanks."

"We can pick up Mesa from Doc Robbins while we're at it," I offer, knowing Sara has been anxious to have him back.

"Okay," she says with a relieved smile, placing the mugs back up in the cabinet.

When I turn, Nancy is still watching Sara's back, her eyes narrowed and tense.

Shaking my head at her, I send her a silent message not to comment about what she's seeing right now marring Sara's arms. That there will be plenty of time for that later.

She clenches her jaw, but nods in understanding of my message to her.

"I'll go get some sheets for the beds," Nancy says, leaving the room before anyone can comment.

Sara follows her silently with her eyes as she leaves.

* * *

><p>Watching the ceiling and listening to the ticking of the clock, I cast another glance at Sara's back.<p>

I know she's awake, and I highly suspect she knows that I'm awake as well.

We've been laying here for nearly two hours now, both of us lost in thought, both of us pretending to be asleep.

"Thank you," Sara suddenly says quietly, her voice cutting through the darkness and nearly making me jump.

Turning, I watch her back.

I don't dare touch her.

"For what?" I ask softly.

"For letting me be alone today."

I close my eyes before opening them again.

"Did it help?"

"Yes," she responds sincerely.

Finally turning, she positions herself on her back so that she can watch the shadows move across the ceiling.

"Whether he could hear me or not, I was able to talk to him, Catherine," she tells me. "I was able say all the things I always wanted to say to him."

She takes a breath, "And, when the time came, I was able to say goodbye."

I take a breath of my own, watching her profile in the darkness.

I had assumed all this time that Liam being put on life support was the worst thing that could have happened. Now, hearing her, I am wondering if perhaps it allowed her the chance to have some closure she otherwise would not have had if he'd died instantly in front of her that day.

"He wasn't a bad person," she whispers. "Not always."

I remain silent, not feeling like I knew Liam well enough to comment. What I did know of him, the way that he chose to deal with his situation, the way he chose to force his problems onto Sara, I must admit that I wasn't particularly fond of him.

But, I cannot presume to know what he was like before his family forced such darkness into his world. What he was like when he and Sara were younger, siblings who perhaps looked out for each other in a house that held nothing but pain and violence. What he was like as a man struggling to accept what he had done, what he had been all but forced to do to those that he had loved.

"I wish I had gotten a chance to get to know him," I tell her sincerely.

Looking over, Sara meets my eyes before moving them back up to the ceiling without comment.

"I'm going to have to arrange his burial," she tells me quietly. "I'm going to have to go back to California."

She tightens her hold on the sheet around her waist.

"When I do," she starts, her body tense, "If you're able or willing, I think I would like for you to be there."

Closing my eyes with emotion at her statement, at her request and her decision to voice it in spite of everything that went on between us, I find it hard to speak.

"Of course," I get out, feeling tears make their way from my eyes to land silently on the pillow below. "Of course, Sara."

Nodding, she quietly turns back around, clearly fighting her own emotions.

For the rest of the night, we lay in silent darkness, pretending to fall victim to a sleep that never comes.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Thank you, all of you, for all your support. Hope you are all doing well. **

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>"<em>I can see the storms rolling in. I pray we're all still here to see them roll out."<em>

_-T. York_

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"It can be another officer," Brass offers, watching Sara through the one way glass. "I would do it myself, but we need to get photos."

"No," I tell him, watching Sara as well. "She would rather it be Sofia then someone she doesn't know."

Nodding, Brass is silent for a few moments, keeping an eye on Sara as she stands against the back wall of the room, going nowhere near the interrogation table or the chairs that no doubt hold nothing but appalling memories for her.

"I can try to have this done in one of the back labs, but I don't want to create any stirrings about preferential treatment…" he states.

"No," I tell him again. "She wouldn't allow you to do it for her anyway."

Plus, I think silently, this way I can keep watch over her in case she needs anything or if this becomes too much for her. It may be selfish, but it's also realistic.

"How is she?" Brass finally asks the question that's really on his mind. "She gave me a 'fine' this morning, but I know there's more to it than that."

I nod, letting out a sigh. "I think there's a lot more to it than that. But you know her."

"Yeah, I do," Brass agrees. "Which is what worries me."

"Me too," I tell him honestly.

Before we can comment further, Sofia knocks on the interrogation room door to announce her presence before entering. That action alone reaffirms my decision to let her be the one to do this.

"Sara," Sofia greets, keeping her tone professional.

"Sofia," Sara responds, sending her a nod.

"You ready to give your statement?"

Taking a seat, Sofia looks up when Sara doesn't join her.

"I'd rather stand, if that's alright," Sara asks quietly.

"That's fine," Sofia simply responds, not pressing her further.

"Start whenever you're ready."

Sara takes a breath, then begins emotionlessly explaining what happened since the time she left the lab after Ecklie confronted her about her brother's prints being found on the gun.

"So he was waiting for you at your house?" Sofia asks, taking notes.

"Yes, he confronted me in the kitchen."

"'Confronted' you?"

"Grabbed me from behind."

I tense, trying to prepare myself to hear what happened between Liam and Sara before I got there. Things which I realize now I never learned.

"And?"

"And we struggled for awhile until he was able to subdue me."

"How did he subdue you?"

"Hit my head into the counter until I lost consciousness."

Stiffening, I close my eyes and try not to lose control of myself at the imagery playing through my head.

Sofia clenches her jaw, writing a few things down before looking back up.

"What happened when you regained consciousness?"

Sara fills in the rest of the events of that day for Sofia, but leaves key details of the conversation with Liam vague, simply stating they discussed 'the past'. Sofia presses only as much as is needed to have ample detail for the report, but allowing most of the topic of conversation to remain private.

When they finish, Sofia lets out a breath.

"I think you know what I have to ask you for next," she says, voice finally betraying her as conflicted emotions color the words.

"I know," Sara tells her, her own tone letting her know she understands that this is part of the job.

With a sigh, Sofia stands and takes hold of the camera she had set on the end of the table.

"My cue to leave," Brass says next to me, his voice strained and his body tense with anger at all that he just heard.

Nodding, I give him a supportive squeeze on his shoulder as he makes his way out of the observation room.

Sofia has drawn all the curtains to the outside department, and I step over and lock the door to this observation room so that no one unexpectedly walks in.

Casting a glance at the mirror as warning for anyone there without good reason to leave, Sofia sets her shoulders and approaches Sara. Asking Sara to roll up her sleeves, she takes photos of the visible injuries on her arms and face.

When it can no longer be avoided, Sofia asks Sara to remove her shirt.

Expression tense, Sara does as she's asked, her eyes looking up to the mirror. With striking accuracy, as they somehow always do, hers meet mine despite the mirrored glass.

"Arms out," Sofia requests gently.

Lifting her arms, Sara keeps her gaze locked with mine as Sofia moves around her, taking images of the various injuries displayed across her body.

Sofia's expression darkens as she sees the injuries beneath her lens. And, I watch it darken even further as she no doubt begins to notice there are a lot of scars on Sara's body, scars that have nothing to do with the reason she's here.

She doesn't comment, keeping her camera fixed only on what is relevant for the case report.

Stepping back, she takes a full body shot from the front and the back, swallowing as she tries to keep her facial expression neutral.

I can understand her struggle as I feel my own hands shaking as they clench themselves into fists. It's heartbreaking to see Sara like this, to see her body so marred and mistreated. It's hard to see the angry red gashes, the deep bruises. Perhaps worst of all, though, it's hard to see the much-too prominent hip bones, the ribs that you can count.

I knew things with Sara had gotten bad, that she had been heading down a dark road for awhile, but seeing her like this now, it nearly renders me unable to breathe.

Reaching over, I take hold of the side of the window frame the same time that Sofia reaches over and hands Sara back her shirt.

"Thanks," Sara offers quietly, pulling her shirt over her head.

Gathering the paperwork from the table, Sofia makes her way to the door, turning to face the brunette.

"You take care of yourself, Sara," she instructs, her words professional while the look she gives Sara definitely is not. It's not the look of a colleague, but the look of a very concerned friend. "I'll see you around."

Sara nods, "Thank you, Sofia."

It's clear to the blonde that Sara's thanks is not so much in response to her words, but in response to her actions during this interaction. Her professionalism, her neutrality, and most of all her respect for Sara's privacy.

Nodding, Sofia steps out of the room, leaving the door open behind her.

* * *

><p>"You ready?" Sara asks me, meeting me in the hall.<p>

Her eyes, her expression, her body language are all tightly controlled, carefully masking her emotions regarding what she just went through.

I nod, trying to get my own expression and emotions back to something resembling normal.

I don't want her to see me fall to pieces, I don't want her to notice a change in the way I look at her, act around her in light of what I just witnessed.

"Let's swing by the break room," I suggest, taking a deep breath and settling my nerves. "I think there's someone there you might want to see."

Furrowing her brows, Sara doesn't comment as she follows me down the hallway.

Making our way inside, Sara is nearly tackled to the ground by a blur of fur and tongue.

"Mesa," Sara breathes out, gathering him in her arms and placing her face against his. "God it's good to see you, buddy."

Mesa licks her face eagerly, a few whines making their way out of his throat as his tail beats against the table leg.

Ruffling his ears, Sara gives him another squeeze before getting to her feet. Mesa practically attaches himself to her shins as she looks up to find another occupant of the room watching her.

"Hey," Nick offers tentatively, stepping forward. "Doc dropped him off when he heard you were here. I, uh, gave him some food and water, but he might still be a bit hungry…"

Sara sends him a nod, her expression polite.

"Thanks, Nick."

"Look, Sara," Nick starts, feet kicking at the carpet. "I want to-"

"No," Sara cuts him off. "It's fine, it's forgotten."

Shaking his head, Nick rubs his temples. "No way, I owe you an apology. I was out of line, I never-"

"Nick," Sara cuts him off again. "You were looking out for Catherine. I get it."

"But you're my friend, too," he counters. "I should have known something wasn't right. That it wasn't like you to do something like that."

Sara shakes her head.

"It happened, it's over. Let's just move on from it."

Nick looks like he still has the guilt of a small country on his shoulders, and I want to tell him to join the club. I think there are a lot of people who owe Sara an apology. A lot of people who turned their backs on her much too quickly than she deserved. And, I consider myself first in line in that group.

Nodding, Nick finally lets out a sigh. "Fine, but just know that I'm so sorry."

"I know," Sara tells him, her tone sincere.

He lets out a breath, sending me a nod as he heads out of the room and back to work.

Turning to me, Sara quirks a brow at my expression.

"How are you so forgiving?" I ask her genuinely.

If it were me, I would be pissed beyond belief if Nick pulled that shit on me, whether it in the end proved to be warranted or not. But, especially if it ended up _not_ being warranted. I probably still wouldn't be talking to him.

"Life's too short, Catherine," she tells me simply. "And no one's truly innocent."

I watch her, keeping my gaze on hers.

Letting out a nod, I exhale.

"No they aren't," I agree.

* * *

><p>Making our way back to Nancy's house, I can't help but glance warily over at Sara as I do so. It's hard to explain, but the better she seems to handle everything that's happened with Liam, the more concerned I get.<p>

Just like with Nick today, Sara has been eerily calm about everything, remaining so neutral and stoic that I have to keep reminding myself that she just lived through some of the most horrific events one could ever imagine.

I know somewhere inside she is battling with everything that's happened, but it's so masterfully tucked away that I even find myself occasionally hoping that she really is doing as 'fine' as she insists on telling everyone she is.

But, I know better than that.

I know _her_ better than that.

It's almost like she's still in shock, like she hasn't quite processed everything that's happened. I honestly don't know what the hell is going on, but what I do know is that there's definitely more going on than meets the surface.

A lot more.

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

"Getting your fix while you can?" I ask with a smile, stepping up against the porch railing.

"I don't know, I'm still convinced all those threats from the airlines about smoke detectors and federal regulations are bluffs," Sara counters, turning her head away from me as she exhales smoke out into the evening air. "I bet they're not even functioning."

I shrug. "Give it a try. Let me know."

Finally, Sara's expression lightens just a shade.

"What time is your flight?" I ask, keeping my voice even.

"In three hours."

Nodding, I lean my arms against the railing, watching Mesa get his ears tugged by my neighbor's 4 year old.

"Thanks for taking him while we're gone," Sara tells me, following my gaze.

I raise a brow, "Not a problem at all. In fact, you may have to bribe me with money and deeds to get him back after."

Sara quirks her own brow, "'Deeds?'"

"Yes," I tell her ominously. "Deeds."

Shaking her head at me, we watch Mesa give a woeful look in our direction when his new playmate decides it would be fun to try to stack pebbles along his head to see if they will balance there.

"Part of me hopes he bites her, just to see what happens," I offer.

Eyes shooting to mine, Sara sends me a look.

I purposely keep my expression flat as she searches my face, my own eyes straight ahead.

"One of you was adopted," Sara mutters under her breath, turning back out towards the yard.

Smiling, we watch Mesa and my neighbor awhile longer.

"Speaking of my sister, I'm going to go see how her packing is coming along," I eventually tell her.

Sara nods, tapping her lighter against the wooden rail softly.

Turning in the doorway, I take a breath.

"I hope you have a safe trip," I offer. "And I'll miss you."

Sara angles her head back towards me, taking her own breath.

"Thank you, Nancy."

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"You feeling okay?" Sara questions, eyes watching me carefully.

"Yeah," I offer, trying to swallow a couple times. "Just get a bit motion sick when I fly."

"Did you take anything?"

I nod, "This is me after taking something."

Sara's eyes narrow in concern.

"Here," she offers, handing over her ginger ale.

"You sure?" I ask, having already finished mine about twenty minutes ago.

Sara nods, "Positive."

Raising the glass to my lips, I take a couple swallows. "Thanks."

Eyes glancing anxiously out the window for what has to be the hundredth time, she turns her attention back to me.

"Why don't you close your eyes for a bit, we've got about forty more minutes until we touch down."

"Maybe," I tell her vaguely, hating the idea of leaving her to herself right now. It's clear that she's nervous, the tension in her body only growing with every passing minute we get closer to her home state.

I can't fathom what she must be feeling right now.

"Have you been back to California since you first left?" I ask her quietly.

Looking at me, she's silent for a moment before turning her gaze back out the window.

"No."

"How old were you?" I push just a bit further.

"Eighteen," she answers. "When I left for school."

"When you left for Harvard," I tell her with a small smile. "You don't have to be modest."

She lets out a small smile of her own. "It always feels pretentious no matter how you say it."

I shake my head at her. "Did you earn or buy your way in?"

Furrowing her brows, she looks at me in confusion.

"Scholarship or trust fund?"

Raising a brow, she shrugs.

"Scholarship," I answer for her, knowing she's too humble to voice the answer herself. "You earned your spot. That's not pretentious, it's impressive."

She looks over, watching me.

"Raising a child as a single mother while putting yourself through night school," she counters quietly. "That's impressive."

I feel myself blush in spite of myself, at her words that hit a deep spot inside me that has always been a bit insecure about my education, about my academic path into our profession.

In a field full of Rhoads scholars and doctorate degrees, it's hard sometimes not to feel a bit out of my element, to feel like I need to hide the fact that I used money from stripping to attend night classes at a community college. While I believe I have proven myself more than competent at my profession, I've always feel that on paper I must look like a practical joke.

"What was your degree?" I ask her, absently wondering how it's possible that we never talked about this before.

I feel like these are things I should have known about her.

She pauses for a moment, and I immediately suspect the problem.

"Physics," she tells me before I can comment.

"And?" I counter, letting her know she's been caught.

Rolling her eyes briefly, she sighs.

"Quantum mathematics."

Raising a brow, I try to hide my smile at her embarrassment.

"Really?"

"Yes," she answers lowly, obviously not finding this conversation as fun as I do.

"Hmm," I hum. "That's so hot you have no idea…"

Finally letting out a snort, Sara shakes her head.

"Can we talk about something else?" she asks with a groan.

"Sure," I shrug. "Were you valedictorian or salutatorianof your class? I can't seem to recall which…"

"Jesus," Sara groans out. "You're relentless."

"You're a smarty pants, get over it."

"I think I want my ginger ale back."

"And a smartass."

Smiling, Sara shakes her head before her eyes travel to the window. Her expression faltering for a moment, she swallows.

Taking a breath, she steadies herself, turning back to me.

"Tell me about your school," she asks quietly.

And so I do. I spend the rest of our flight talking with her about college memories, classmates and lab partners from hell, teachers who inspired me.

Mostly, I try to distract her, and also distract myself, if I'm honest.

Sara is clearly dreading this particular visit, and the idea of the unknown is provoking its own anxiety within me.

* * *

><p>Pulling up to the bed and breakfast, I scan the area around me as Sara goes to get our bags from the back of our rented SUV.<p>

Handing me one of my bags, she takes the rest as she moves to head inside.

"Cath?" she questions when I make no move to follow.

"I can't wait to see this place come morning," I tell her honestly. "I can smell and hear the ocean, it's so close, but too dark to see."

Sara raises a brow, casting a glance out towards the blackness to our left.

Touching down in San Francisco, we drove the rest of the way to Tomales Bay, finding a bed and breakfast with available rooms for the night.

Stepping forward, I join her and we complete our journey inside.

"Welcome to Tomales Bay," I cheerful man in his sixties greets us as we enter. "Are you the two lovely ladies I spoke to on the phone?"

"Yes," I answer, glancing over at Sara as she moves her eyes around the room, taking in every detail. "You still have rooms available?"

"Of course," he answers, filling out some of our information before handing us each a key. "The rooms are adjacent. I'm Daniel if you need anything."

"Thanks," I offer, taking in a breath, still trying to process Sara's request that we have separate rooms.

"First time here?" Daniel asks.

"Yes," Sara finally breaks her silence, answering before I can. Sending him a pleasant nod, she lifts her bag to her shoulder. "Here to see the sights."

I quirk a brow, but don't comment.

"Excellent," Daniel says with a warm smile. "Let me know if you want any suggestions of places to see."

"Thank you," Sara tells him, and I grab my bag as we make our way up the wooden staircase.

Heading down the upstairs hall, we quickly find our rooms.

Opening mine, I cast a glance in Sara's direction as she fits her key into the lock.

"'Here to see the sights'?" I question her.

She doesn't comment for a moment, her hand pausing on the door handle.

"You'll understand later," is her eventual, vague reply.

"Okay," I tell her simply, not daring to push her on a trip as emotionally heavy as this one already is. Hell, she could tell that man we are here to start a brothel for all I care.

"See you in the morning?" Sara asks quietly, eyes on mine, but nearly impossible to read.

"Sure," I tell her, wishing there was something else I could say, do.

Nodding, Sara moves to enter her room.

"Sar," I call her back at the last minute.

Her head pokes back around the door frame.

"Yeah?"

"Goodnight," I tell her quietly.

Her shoulders lose just a shade of their rigidity, her expression softening slightly.

"Goodnight, Catherine. Sleep well."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: Sorry sorry sorry sorry, etc, sorry sorry, etc. for the delay in updates. Ugh, it had been going so smoothly there for awhile, but then, as always, life happened. Some good things, some not so good things, and all of them taking up much more of my time then I would like. I use every spare minute I get to write, and will keep updating as quickly as I can. Thank you for your continued support and patience.**

**Hope everyone is doing well, and happy Mother's Day.**

**Take care.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 25<p>

"I Years had been from Home

And now before the Door

I dared not enter…"

-Emily Dickinson

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

I imagined something beautiful, but what greets my eyes come morning is absolutely breathtaking. I don't think the English language even has words to describe what I am seeing.

Closing the sliding door quietly behind me, I breathe deeply, inhaling the moist ocean air. It's so different than the dry heat that permeates Vegas most of the year, and I can't help the smile that comes to my lips.

Taking a couple more deep breaths, I turn my eyes to the only other person out here this early.

Sitting on a wooden bench situated at the edge of the bluff, Sara's eyes are closed, her head tilted back as the light breeze plays with loose wisps of her dark hair. Her expression is a bit hard to make out through the early morning mist, but from here she almost looks peaceful.

Almost.

Moving quietly towards her, she opens her eyes as I make my approach.

Our gazes meet, and the next few moments are spent quietly watching one another.

"You mind if I join you?" I eventually break the silence, gesturing to the spot next to her.

"No," she says softly, moving to give me more room. "Of course not."

We sit in silence, Sara watching the waves below, me watching her.

"You sleep okay?" Sara asks, eyes still on the water as she extends her coffee out to me.

"Thanks," I tell her, taking the offered item and swallowing a couple sips. "And yes, I slept well."

"Good."

Handing her back the coffee, I draw my feet up on the bench and rest my arms across my knees.

"You?" I question.

"Fine, thanks."

It's the answer I knew I would get, and it's also the answer that's anything but the truth.

All night long, I woke to hear Sara pacing in the room next door. I would listen for awhile, debating whether to go to her, before ultimately deciding to respect her privacy. I would drift back off, waking again hour after hour to hear her footsteps still moving quietly across the wooden floor boards.

Hard as it was to listen to her silently struggling on the other side of the wall, I knew from experience that Sara paces when she is deep in thought. And, there are a lot of potential things that could have Sara's mind preoccupied right now.

I figured the best thing at the time was give Sara some space to try to sort through and process everything that's been thrown at her in such a short amount of time.

"How're you holding up?" I ask her quietly.

I may have been able to refrain from addressing her last night, but I'm finding it damn near impossible to do when I'm sitting right next to her, seeing right in front of me the guarded look to her eyes and the stoic set to her features.

I simply can't ignore the woman that I care so much about when she's so close, and yet so far away in so many ways.

"I'm alright," she answers. "There's a couple places I need to go today to get things sorted out for Liam's burial."

Her subject change isn't lost on me, nor is her continued avoidance of eye contact.

Inwardly I sigh. I don't know what to do here. I don't want to ignore the fact that she so clearly isn't alright, but I also don't want to push her completely away from me. I'd rather have the limited communication we have right now than have nothing at all.

"What types of places?" I eventually settle on asking.

"The church and the funeral service."

I nod slowly, admittedly a bit thrown by the mention of a church as one of the destinations. Sara never struck me as particularly religious, and for some reason it surprises me even more so that her brother would be. That anyone in her family would be.

I think I'm going to have to accept that Sara is simply one of those people that you will never truly know everything about, the type of person that will continue to surprise you no matter how long you know them.

"You're welcome to come," she offers, redirecting my thoughts. "But if you want to go other places, look around the bay, that's fine. There's much better ways to spend your time in California than planning a funeral."

Shaking my head, I watch the waves with her.

"I didn't come here for a vacation, Sara," I tell her simply. "I came here for you."

Finally looking over, Sara searches my profile a moment before returning her eyes to the horizon.

"Okay," is her quiet response, so soft that I barely hear it over the sounds of the ocean. "Thanks."

She doesn't say anything more, and neither do I.

Eventually, Sara lets out a breath, getting to her feet.

"I guess I should get ready," she states, finishing the rest of her coffee.

Standing as well, I gesture to where her free hand is absently holding her side.

"Mind if I take a look at that before you get dressed?"

Eyes moving to mine, Sara searches my gaze, her body still and silent.

"It's healing well," she eventually says.

"I hope it is," I tell her seriously. "But I also know you're not always the best judge when it comes to your own physical state of wellbeing."

Sara stiffens slightly at my words, her eyes immediately leaving mine.

"Please, Sara," I ask her quietly. "It would make me feel a lot better."

Clenching her jaw, Sara takes a deep breath.

Nodding, she gestures back towards the bed and breakfast.

"Alright."

"Thank you," I tell her sincerely, grateful beyond belief that, despite all the changes that have transpired between us, Sara still seems intent on putting my needs and wants before her own.

It may be selfish, but if it means I can use it to keep her safe, I'll more than gladly take advantage of it.

* * *

><p>Leading the way inside, Sara follows after me, neither one of us speaking until we make it inside my room.<p>

Quietly closing the door behind us, I gesture towards the bed.

"Make yourself comfortable," I offer, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and wetting it slightly.

When I return, Sara hasn't moved from her previous position, standing stiffly in the center of the room, eyes fixed to the window.

Stepping up to her slowly, I wait until she brings her eyes to mine.

"I'll be quick," I offer, letting her know that I recognize and respect her discomfort.

"I know," she answers.

Nodding, I gesture to her shirt.

"How do you want to do this?" I ask, giving her the option of whether she feels comfortable removing it or not.

Taking a breath, Sara takes hold of her t-shirt, pulling it over her head and leaning over to place it on the bedspread.

It may appear a simple gesture to some, but to me, it's absolutely huge. I know Sara, and I know this represents something more than her allowing me to see her in only her bra. It represents trust, it represents compromise.

Swallowing, I keep my eyes where it's relevant, trying not to let them explore the body that I have missed so much.

Moving forward slightly, I reach out and gently place my hand on her hip to keep her steady as I slowly wipe away a bit of dried blood from the deepest part of the gash.

I feel her eyes watching me, and it's nearly impossible to keep my fingers steady as the towel moves across her skin.

"I'm going to need to reapply the liquid sutures to this one part," I tell her, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.

"Okay," she replies, her own tone distracted.

Clearing my throat, I force myself to step away to get the needed item from my suitcase. Removing it from the first aid kit I packed, I take a moment more than necessary to try to collect myself.

Breathing in deeply, I turn back and once again approach the brunette.

Gently coating her torn skin, I recap the bottle and straighten back up.

Watching her, I feel my hand lay itself gently against her chest before I am conscious of what I am doing. Stepping slightly closer to her, my other hand reaches out to hold her face gently.

Thumb moving of its own accord, it slowly traces her cheekbone, making its way across her skin.

I watch as Sara's eyes close under my touch.

"Catherine…" she gets out, her voice sounding conflicted.

"I know," I tell her in a whisper, yet unable to compel myself to step away.

I have wanted to touch her for so long these past days, wanted to feel her with my own hands like this so many times, I cannot for the life of me force myself to walk away now.

"Catherine…" she tries again, this time her eyes opening back up.

Reaching out, Sara takes my hand from her face to hold it in hers.

Swallowing, she shakes her head.

"We can't…" she gets out quietly. "Not now. Not like this."

Her eyes search mine for understanding.

"Not here."

Trying to steady myself, I nod, forcing my face into a neutral expression.

"Of course, I'm sorry," I tell her, suddenly feeling foolish for my loss of control.

Reaching out, Sara gently tilts my face back towards hers.

"Don't be," she tells me sincerely. "Never apologize for touching me like that, Catherine. I'm the one who's sorry."

Squeezing my hand, she lets out a breath.

"I just can't right now…this place…" she tightens her jaw, eyes looking away.

This time, it's me that reaches out to bring her gaze back to mine.

"I understand," I tell her sincerely, keeping our gazes matched. "I understand, Sara."

She takes a deep breath, my fingers leaving her face as she nods, letting out a breath.

With one final squeeze, she lets go of my hand.

"I'll leave you to get ready," she says, taking her shirt from the bed and pulling it on.

With one last look and the barest hint of a smile, she makes her way out of the room.

* * *

><p>"Wow," I mutter quietly, my voice echoing through the empty chambers and alcoves.<p>

All around me, I am surrounded by towering archways of dark stone, deep cherry wood pews lining a long, central aisle. Stained glass accents the walls, panel after panel depicting scenes ranging from judgment to resurrection, from death to life.

Making a full circle and trying to take everything in, I watch as Sara runs her fingers slowly across the top of a pew, clearly lost in her memories of this place.

"I didn't know you were religious," I tell her, still disturbed by the fact that I don't know anything about her thoughts regarding spirituality, an afterlife, any of it.

Sara raises a brow, shaking her head.

"I wouldn't quite consider myself religious."

Quirking my own brow, I watch her until she finally turns to face me after a few moments of silence.

"My family used to come here when I was younger, attend services every Sunday," she explains. "After everything that happened with Addison," she says, her voice trailing off. "After that we didn't do a lot of things we used to."

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my own emotions regarding Sara's past out of this.

"Did you miss it?" I ask.

Sara shrugs.

"I didn't necessarily miss the religion part of it, as I'm not sure I ever fully believed," she says. "But I missed the familiarity of it, the tradition."

I nod.

"I get that," I tell her honestly. "We used to go to church with my grandmother when we visited her in upstate Montana. Although I didn't believe in the faith she did, going to church with her are some of my fondest memories."

Sara watches me, her eyes heavy, before she turns away.

"Yeah," she breathes out.

Then, setting her shoulders, she takes a deep breath.

"The part I came here to see is out back."

* * *

><p>Exiting out the opposite side of the church, we make our way across the grounds, eventually stepping between a thick set of pines and laurels. Passing through, we come to a clearing, trees and greenery parting to grant a breathtaking view of the ocean along the horizon.<p>

"This is the spot," Sara tells me.

"The spot?" I question, eyes still looking around.

"Do you remember the cemetery we passed down below?" she asks, her voice strangely tight.

"Yes," I answer, eyes fixed to hers as she has my full attention.

"Our parents are buried there," she says, her fingers subconsciously clenching themselves into fists. "They bought us all plots together in that cemetery."

My eyes widen, my own heart constricting much like her hands.

"Oh."

It's all I can get out, all I can force my mouth to voice.

"I will not let Liam be forced to spend the rest of eternity next to them."

Jaw tight, Sara swallows.

She's trying so badly to keep herself together, keep her emotions under control.

"I know we never talked about this, Catherine," she says, her voice strained. "But if something ever happens to me, do not let them put me there either."

Her tormented eyes plead with mine, and I feel my own fill with moisture at her words, at the sheer desperation behind them.

"Oh, Sara," I breathe out. "Never."

Taking a chance, I step closer to her, reaching out to place my hand against her arm.

"Never, Sara."

Feeling her stiffen under my touch, I recognize that the emotions of this moment are nearly too much for her, and that the emotions of the physical contact are only adding to it.

Removing my hand, I take a step back, giving her room.

"Please," she forces out. "I don't care where the hell you put me, just please don't let them put me there."

"Sara," I get out, my eyes fixed tightly on hers. "You have my word."

Watching me, expression darkened with countless emotions, Sara finally nods. Swallowing, she turns away, taking a moment to collect herself.

I, in turn, use the time to wipe the moisture from my own eyes.

"Liam used to love coming up here," Sara says, clearing her throat. "We used to come up here at night and watch the stars over the ocean. We came here whenever we needed to be somewhere quiet, somewhere safe."

She glances up, eyes squinting against the sun.

"My parents blamed each other, blamed God, blamed everyone but themselves for what had happened with Addison, with our family," she says quietly. "We knew they would never step foot in a church again. This became our sanctuary."

Eyes moving back down, she shifts her gaze to the church that's barely visible through the trees.

"With all their hatred towards God and the idea of church, I guess it's a bit ironic they forgot they signed up to spend all of eternity at one."

Eyes moving back towards mine, Sara is silent a moment before she turns away.

"After the service tomorrow I'm going to come up here and spread his ashes."

I take a breath, trying to keep my emotions in check, trying to not let myself become overwhelmed by it all.

Sara needs me to be strong right now, but I would be lying if I said I didn't feel like falling apart. That I didn't feel like screaming over the edge of this bluff about the injustices of the world, about the pain and anger I feel inside for Sara and what she was forced to live through back then, what she is currently being forced to live through right now.

But, I remind myself, it's not time for that. Right now is time for the woman standing in front of me who is struggling, no matter what she says. The woman who has always been so strong and stoic that she nearly convinces you that she's perfectly fine when she's anything but.

Right now is about her.

Whether she wants it to be or not.

"I'll be sure you have the privacy you need," I tell her. "Make sure no one wanders up here."

Turning, Sara takes a breath.

"Thank you, Catherine," she tells me genuinely, her eyes thanking me for my words, as well as my unspoken message that tomorrow I will give her the time alone with Liam that she needs, not only from other people, but from myself as well.

Just like his last moments at the hospital, I know that tomorrow Sara needs some time alone to say goodbye.

* * *

><p>"Have you eaten yet today?" I ask as we make our way back to the car.<p>

Nodding, Sara pays my question little attention as she unlocks the doors.

"Sara…" I call, causing her to finally stop and face me. "I'm serious."

Taking a breath, Sara pulls open the car door. She's quiet for a moment before she silently gets in the car.

Following her lead, I climb into the passenger seat as we close the doors behind us.

Sighing, she places the keys in the ignition but doesn't turn on the engine.

"I ate, but I can't keep anything down," Sara finally admits, voice quiet enough that it's almost lost before it reaches my ears.

Eyes lifting to mine, she sends me a look that's best described as apologetic.

Letting out my own sigh, I close my eyes briefly.

"Sara Sidle," I get out, pulling my eyes open to fix them on her. "You should have said something. How long has this been going on?"

"Since Liam used my gun to blow his brains out all over the living room carpet."

The words are blunt, but the tone in which she says them is so matter of fact that it's almost eerie. It's said in exactly the same stoic presentation that her entire demeanor has been for the majority of the past couple days.

I suspect she is telling the truth, that her inability to keep food down has started after Liam. But I also suspect, due to the extent of her weight loss, she has had problems reminding herself to eat before that time. In fact, I suspect Sara has been neglecting herself for awhile, probably ever since we broke up and our worlds began to spin off their axis.

Perhaps misinterpreting my silence, Sara shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Catherine. That was uncalled for."

"No," I counter. "It was honest."

Sara doesn't argue, but she doesn't quite look like she agrees either.

"Are you hungry?" she asks me. "Is that why you asked? Did you want to stop somewhere?"

"Yes," I tell her, not having the heart right now to tell her the real reason I asked was because of her.

Because of her hollowed features, because of her sharply angled cheek bones, because of her entire physique that is much too thin.

"Okay," she tells me simply, turning on the engine and putting the car into drive.

* * *

><p>Our meal was nice, we spent awhile simply talking and joking around with each other. To be honest, it felt almost like the meals we used to share together before we broke up. The meals where we would forget about the rest of the world for awhile, so completely lost in each other that it honestly feels like there is nothing else or no one else but us in existence.<p>

It gave me hope that parts of the old Sara and I, parts of our relationship together, may still exist under the surface somewhere.

May not have been lost forever.

Directing the car through mild traffic, Sara's eyes are focused straight ahead while mine dance from one side of the street to the other, trying to take everything in.

Trying to picture this as the place that Sara grew up, where she spent her time, where she went to school, where she lived the first 18 years of her life.

It's like I'm getting to know pieces of Sara just by being here, pieces that, until recently, have been nothing but blank pages.

Glancing back over to Sara's side of the street, I catch sight of her profile as she stops at a light. Furrowing my brows, I take in her death grip on the steering wheel, the paleness to her skin.

Before I have time to comment, Sara pulls out into traffic, forcing the car into a u-turn as other cars express their protest.

Accelerating, Sara pays them no attention as she clenches her jaw, turning off the main road onto a series of side streets.

"Sara?" I question, eyes shifting nervously between her and the roadway.

Sara doesn't answer, her own eyes forced straight ahead, never moving to look at the houses spread out around us.

Traveling from one side street to another, we continue to travel in tense silence as the houses become spread further apart, the trees and foliage growing more thick.

"Sara?" I try again, eyes searching around us to try to figure out what the hell is going on with her.

Slowing the car, Sara stops at a white mailbox, the numbers nearly rusted off, but still legible.

1310.

Turning to her, she is staring at the mailbox, breathing quickened, her hands still gripping the steering wheel in tight fists.

Looking back, I follow the gravel driveway up as far as I can until it curves and gets lost in overgrown bushes and pines.

Hearing the car door open, I quickly force my own open and scramble out after Sara, who is now standing rigidly at the foot of the drive.

"Honey," I get out, not even entertaining the idea of reaching out to touch her right now.

"I need to see it," she says lowly, her voice quiet but strong. "I can't keep driving past it pretending like it's not there."

Eyes moving back to the drive, I take a deep breath, my suspicions confirmed.

"This was your house."

"Yes."

Jaw tight, Sara clenches the car keys in her fist. Taking one step and then another, Sara purposefully strides up the drive.

Quickly following after her, I catch up to her as she turns around the bend, the house ahead suddenly coming into view.

I don't know what I expected to see, but this sure as hell wasn't it.

The house itself is modest, but at the same time stunning. It's traditional in its styling, wood work and design suggesting it was built many decades ago. Perhaps even centuries.

The allure of the house, however, is greatly diminished by the thick metal fence completely surrounding it. Signs in bright yellow have been posted at precise intervals along its length, declaring the area within its boundaries restricted under persecution of the law.

Grass and vines have worked their way up the metal rails, weaving in and out of the chain links.

Stepping up to the fence, Sara stands at the gate, barely glancing down at the padlock before she takes hold of the metal in her hands.

"Oh no you don't," I warn her, reaching out to take hold of her by the back of her belt.

"It's my house," she counters. "It was Parker's. When he died it became Liam's. Thus now it's mine."

"Maybe," I tell her, "But it looks like at some point it's been claimed by the state."

Gesturing to the posted warnings, Sara barely pays them any attention, foot already placing itself in the fence.

Before she can lift herself even an inch, a bellowing voice from behind us nearly scares the living shit out of me.

"What in heaven's name do you think you're doing?"

* * *

><p>Turning, I see a large woman, approximately in her forties quickly ascending the drive towards us.<p>

"This house is not for you gawkers to come and trespass all over! Can't you read the goddamn signs?"

Shaking her head, I raise a brow as she moves right past me and literally pulls Sara off and away from the fence.

"You nosy rubberneckers get back in your car before I call the police."

Raising her own brow, Sara looks down at the woman darkly.

"Sorry," I offer, trying to diffuse the situation. "We're visiting a friend from out of town and must have gotten the wrong address from her…"

The woman lets out a snort. "I think your friend is trying to play a practical joke on you. This is most definitely not the house you're looking for."

"Why's that?" Sara asks, her voice hard to read.

Raising her brows, the woman looks like we just beamed in from Pluto.

"You don't know what house this is?" she asks incredulously.

"No."

"Wow, you must _really_ be from out of town," she breathes out.

The woman's demeanor shifts almost instantly, her anger morphing into conspiratory excitement, obviously elated at the idea of getting to share some juicy gossip.

"This is the Sidle house," she tells us, her voice low as though there are people listening from the bushes.

"The family used to live here, seemed perfectly normal until one night the mom went crazy and stabbed her husband to death while he was sleeping. Right in his sleep, stabbed him over _thirty_ times. Can you imagine that?"

She shakes her head.

"And, the worst part," she says in a whisper, "is that she did it right in front of her children. Two boys and a girl."

The woman crosses her arms over her chest.

"All this stuff came out after about the children having been abused for _years_ in that house. All that time, and no one suspected a thing."

She fixes us with a look. "It's disgusting. I tell you, some people are just evil and should never even be allowed to have children let alone raise them."

Clenching her jaw, Sara glances back towards the house.

"What happened to them?" she asks. "The children?"

The woman's eyes light up at Sara's perceived interest. "Foster care. Well, for the younger ones."

She steps slightly closer to us, her head lowered as she continues in her secretive tone.

"I heard the boys ended up in jail for rape, beating their wives, things like that. Ended up just like their parents."

"And the girl?"

"No one knows," the woman says. "Some say she disappeared in the foster system. Some say she changed her name and is living under an alias. Some say she got married, only to kill her own husband on their honeymoon just like her mother killed her father. Some say she was murdered years ago by one of her own brothers."

The woman shrugs with a smile. "There are so many rumors, it's hard to keep track, you know?"

"Of course," Sara gets out, eyes dark.

Reaching over, I place my hand absently on the small of her back.

"One thing I do know for sure," the woman says. "It would have been better for those kids, for the whole world really, if they'd never been born. To live with that sort of evil? You can't expect anyone to be normal after that. I'm not saying it's their fault or anything, but it is what it is."

Clearing my throat, I step forward, gesturing to the house.

"What's happening with the house?" I ask, desperate to change the topic, to somehow erase the woman's last comment from the air.

"They condemned it. The whole town voted to tear it down. No one wants that horrible thing lurking back here." She shakes her head. "But apparently the house is historic, built back in the 1800s. We can't get permission to demolish it. So here it stands."

Gesturing between us, the woman grows frustrated yet again. "I live across the street and now I have to watch sick fucks like yourself trying to get a view of the infamous Sidle house. Sick, morbid people out there, I tell ya."

Sara shakes her head.

"Well, we're sorry to have bothered you," she forces out before turning and making her way back down the drive towards our car.

Glancing at me, the woman watches Sara retreat.

"You better keep an eye on her," she warns me. "If I catch her trying to climb that fence again I _will _call the police."

"Understood," I tell her distractedly, already stepping around her to follow after Sara.

* * *

><p>"That's why you told the man at the bed and breakfast we were tourists," I say into the silence of the car. "And why you've been paying only with cash. You don't want anyone to know who you are."<p>

Sara nods, her hands absently tapping the car keys against her fingers.

Eventually she shrugs, eyes glancing out the window. "The Sidle name isn't one you can use casually around here."

I take in a deep breath, not having even thought about this particular issue. It makes sense, and I'm surprised I hadn't anticipated it sooner. A small town. A horrific story that for all intents and purposes sounds like something written for some Hollywood horror movie. It would be unrealistic to expect people to have forgotten about what happened with Sara's family by now.

Stories like hers aren't ones you really ever forget.

"You okay?" I ask her quietly, watching her as she stares intently at the mailbox of her old house still visible from our new location further down the street, away from the sights of that retched woman.

There are no houses where we are, and we essentially have the road to ourselves.

"Yeah," she tells me quietly, voice carefully controlled.

"Sara, I –"

Before I can finish, Sara throws her door open, staggering to the edge of the road where she almost immediately begins to vomit.

"Shit," I curse, getting out of the car and quickly making my way to her side.

Holding her upper arm tightly for support with one hand, I use the other to gently rub her back as I watch her throw up the small amount of food she managed to force down at lunch.

"Alright, sweetheart," I tell her softly. "You're alright, I got you."

Coughing as she starts to dry heave, I wrap my arm around her waist to lend her shaking body some extra support.

"I got you, Sar."

Straightening slowly as she finishes, Sara drags in a couple shaky breathes.

"Sorry," she gets out, voice strained.

"Shh," I cut her off. "Stop. You have nothing to be sorry for."

Holding Sara tightly until her shaking starts to diminish, I slowly move my arm from her waist to her hip, resituating myself so I can still keep a hold of her while facing her at the same time.

"You alright?" I ask her seriously, eyes boring into her own.

"Yeah, I'm fi-"

"'Fine'," I finish for her. "Yeah, I know. You're 'fine'. Just like you're always 'fine.'"

Sara's eyes remain on mine, both of us in some sort of silent standoff that I'm not really sure how got started.

After more than a few moments of tense silence, I let out a sigh.

Shaking my head, I run my hand through my hair.

"Come on," I tell her quietly. "Let's head back."

Watching me a few moments more, Sara eventually nods and we get into the car without another word.

* * *

><p>"What time do we leave again?" I ask, hesitating near Sara's doorway with my own key in hand.<p>

"About two hours from now," she tells me, pushing her door open quietly.

"Okay, see you in a couple hours then."

Turning to head to my room, I almost make it to my door before Sara calls me back.

"Cath?"

"Yeah?"

Tapping her fingers against the doorframe, Sara takes a breath.

"You want to come in for awhile?"

Brows raising of their own accord, I try to hide my surprise at her offer.

"Oh," I eventually stammer out. "Sure."

I try to keep my tone neutral, try to not betray the true relief I am feeling right now.

Gesturing with her arm, Sara allows me to enter her room first, closing the door behind us.

"Make yourself comfortable," she offers, handing me a water from the minifridge.

"Thanks."

After a few awkward moments trying to figure out the logistics, Sara and I eventually find ourselves both sitting on the bed, leaning our backs against the headboard.

Sara is glancing over a journal that looks like anything but light reading, and I am trying to pretend like I am doing the crossword puzzle from the local paper.

The whole situation is tense, awkward. Simply put, it's not us.

Not our typical dynamic.

Letting out a breath, I look over when I realize I haven't heard Sara turn a page in quite awhile.

Journal resting in her lap, Sara's eyes are closed, her head angled awkwardly against the headboard.

Watching her silently for a few moments, following the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, I quietly take off my reading glasses and place them and the paper on the night stand.

Nervously glancing over, I see that Sara hasn't budged.

Deciding to tempt fate, I softly take hold of Sara's shoulder, pulling her slowly and gently towards me.

Sara lets out a soft moan of protest, and I still my motions until her breathing evens out again.

Then, carefully, I resume my actions until her head is resting against my chest. Wrapping my arm around her, I pull us both downward until we are laying against the pillows.

Watching her closely, Sara is still deep in sleep, her body nearly completely limp against my own.

Smiling slightly at the rare sight, I run my fingers softly through her hair, my own eyes closing as I try to hold onto this moment, this feeling.

Placing a kiss against her temple, I move my lips towards her ear.

"I love you," I whisper softly. "My God, Sara, how much I still love you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	26. Chapter 26

**AN: Thank you guys for your reviews and your understanding/support. You guys are amazing beyond words.**

**Hope everyone is doing well. Take care.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 26<p>

"_When I come to the end of the road,  
>And the sun has set for me,<br>I want no rites in a gloom filled room  
>Why cry for a soul set free?<br>Miss me a little - but not for long.  
>And not with your head bowed low.<br>Miss me, but let me go._

_For this is a journey we must all take,  
>And each must go alone.<br>It's all part of the master plan,  
>A step on the road to home."<em>

_-Anonymous_

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"_As all life begins, so must all life come to an end…"_

Reaching over, I take Sara's hand in mine, twining our fingers together as the words of the clergyman push through the wind of the gathering storm.

"_Our lives are but a brief glint in time, only a few steps towards our true destination…"_

Watching Sara's profile, I tighten my hold on her hand as she continues to stare motionlessly at the marble wall, eyes fixed on her brother's name etched into the stone.

"_In the end of days we shall all be reunited, our burdens lifted and our souls at rest…"_

Skin pale against the black of her clothing, Sara doesn't even blink as thunder clasps in the distance.

"_May the universe look fondly upon our brother, Liam. May he find respite, may he find peace."_

Closing his book, the clergyman raises his eyes towards the gathering darkness just as the first few drops of rain begin to fall from the sky.

Glancing at Sara, he stands silently for a moment, eyes moving to mine when Sara's gaze does not waver from the wall.

Sending me a nod, I nod as well, watching as he gives Sara one last look before heading through the blowing grass and leaves towards the shelter of the church below.

Pushing my hair from my face, I grip Sara's arm, holding tightly to her as I feel the temperature shift as the storm is all but upon us.

"You should get inside," Sara says, her voice quiet as her eyes remain transfixed on the wall.

I don't answer, refusing to leave her side.

Hearing a loud crash of thunder, Sara finally breaks her tense gaze, her eyes moving to mine.

"You should get inside, Catherine," she repeats. "Before it starts to pour."

Reaching out, I smooth her hair away from her face, even though the wind grabs hold of it again as soon as I let go.

"What about you?" I ask, cursing myself for not having even thought to bring an umbrella this morning when we left.

"I'll be fine," she tells me, squeezing my hand. "I just need a minute or two and I'll be in."

Taking a deep breath, I glance towards the carved wooden box laid at the foot of the wall, the box that Sara will now take so that she can finish laying Liam to rest.

"You sure?" I ask her, raising my voice so that it can be heard above the wind.

Nodding, Sara sends me the barest hint of a smile, "I'm sure, Catherine. Now get inside before you get soaked."

Reaching out, I squeeze her arm before pulling away.

"I'll be right inside waiting for you," I tell her.

Sara nods, watching me until I turn and make my way towards the church just as the slow drops start to turn into a gale.

Pulling the glass door open, I turn around to watch Sara pick up the box, tracing Liam's name at the wall before she turns away, making her way up the hill and out of sight.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Moving to our seats near the far fireplace, I immediately sense that things in this town have shifted.

Feeling nearly a dozen pairs of eyes on my back as I lower myself into my chair, I glance over at Sara who is keeping her own eyes fixed straight ahead of her.

Jaw tight, she places the keys on the table, silently taking the seat across from me, her back to the wall.

"Here," I tell her, passing over my mostly dry coat. "Put this on."

Eyes still tense, Sara seems to not hear me.

"Sar," I call, watching as her eyes finally shift to mine.

"Sorry, what?" she asks.

"Put this on," I repeat, handing her my jacket.

"You sure?" she asks me, hesitantly taking the item. "I'm going to get it all wet."

"Yes, I'm sure. Please put it on," I tell her. "You're making me cold just looking at you."

Raising a brow, Sara does as she's asked, pulling on my coat and rolling up the sleeves slightly so that their inadequate length is not so apparent.

"Thanks."

I nod, watching as her eyes drift back out towards the other booths behind me.

"We can go," I offer. "We can order something to eat back in our rooms."

"No," Sara says, expression tense, but determined. "This was bound to happen at some point."

I shake my head.

"But it shouldn't," I get out. "People need to mind their own fucking business."

Clearing her throat, our waitress steps up to our table.

"Coffee?" she asks with a raised brow, eyes traveling everywhere but near Sara.

"Please," I answer for the both of us.

"Not sure which approach I like better," Sara says, watching the waitress as she retreats back towards the kitchen. "The ones who can't stop staring at me, or the ones who refuse to even glance my way."

"Neither," I tell her. "They're both rude as hell."

Sending me a slight smile, Sara shakes her head before growing serious again.

"We can go," she offers to me this time. "You shouldn't have to sit here and be stared at just because you're here with me."

Reaching out, I take her hand in mine, rubbing her cold fingers to try to give her some warmth.

"Let the fuckers stare."

Letting out the first genuine smile I've seen Sara give in a long time, she watches me silently for a moment before the waitress returns with our coffees.

Ordering our food and eating in companionable silence, I smile a large smile of my own when we get up to leave.

Sitting on the edge of the table is our receipt, and I see Sara has not only paid with her credit card, but signed the bill in large, clear letters.

_Sara Caelum Sidle._

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"How're you holding up?" my sister asks me, voice slightly garbled for a moment as she readjusts the phone.

"I don't know," I tell her honestly. "Ask me again in five minutes, I'm sure the answer will change by then anyway."

"Yeah?" she questions, voice concerned.

"Yeah," I admit. "I feel like some moments I'm fine, but then the next moment I literally feel like I am about to cry or scream or something of the sort."

I hear Nancy sigh.

"I wish I could be there for you," she tells me softly. "I hate just sitting here, doing nothing to help."

"You're helping," I counter. "You've been helping this whole time. You're helping talking to me right now."

"I guess."

She doesn't sound entirely convinced.

"How's Sara?" Nancy asks, voice so quiet I barely hear her over the line.

Now it's my turn to sigh.

"That's the only answer I need," Nancy says.

"I don't know what to do about her," I tell my sister seriously. "She's trying so hard to convince the world, probably herself included, that's she's fine."

"Is it working?" Nancy asks.

"Sometimes," I admit. "Sometimes when we're together she's so stoic and collected that I almost forget what she's going through. She's the same steady Sara she's always been."

I hear my sister sigh again.

"I don't know why, Cath, but her seemingly well adjusted reaction to all of this is making me more nervous than if she were falling off the deep end right now."

I nod even though she can't see me.

"Me too," I breathe out.

There's a pause.

"Is she eating?" Nancy asks.

I know Sara's weight has always been a point of concern for Nancy, who's always felt that Sara was too thin. I can only imagine what seeing Sara in her current state has been doing to my sister.

"Yes," I answer.

There's another pause.

"But…" Nancy leads me, voice indicating she knows there's more I'm not saying.

I sigh.

"But she can't keep anything down."

My sister curses. "Shit. How long?"

"Since Liam."

"She needs to get food in her," my sister warns, voice tight.

"I know," I tell her. "Trust me."

"When's your flight home?" Nancy asks.

"Tomorrow morning."

"I'll see what I can think of," she promises.

"Alright," I breathe out, hearing the water from the shower shut off. "I should go, Nancy, but I'll see you soon."

"Okay, love you," Nancy tells me. "See you tomorrow."

Hanging up, I sigh, placing my phone in my pocket and taking a deep breath.

* * *

><p>"You okay?" Sara asks me, throwing her towel over the chair.<p>

"Yeah," I answer. "Just talking with Nancy."

Sara nods slowly, still watching me.

"Everything alright?"

Damn her perceptiveness, I inwardly curse. Even now, it feels like her eyes are looking right through me.

"Yeah," I tell her. "Nancy just misses us."

It's honest, even if it's not really the whole truth.

Sara watches me further.

"Okay," she finally states after a few moments of silence, not convinced but respecting my wish to not talk about what's really bothering me.

Straightening out the hem of her t-shirt, Sara runs a hand through her damp hair.

"Catherine," she says softly, body tensing as she forces her eyes to meet mine. "I wanted to thank you for coming here with me. I know it hasn't been an easy trip for you."

Raising a brow, I shake my head.

"Sara, of course I would come," I tell her. "And don't worry about how this trip was for me, sweetheart. It's you that I'm worried about."

Sara shakes her head, "I know."

I can't help the smile that pulls at my lips.

"Have I been that obvious?"

"Yes," Sara tells me, a ghost of a smile gracing her own features.

Taking a breath, Sara's eyes grow troubled.

"Catherine, I don't want you to feel obligated for things like this," she tells me quietly. "Because of what we had together."

"Sara," I warn her. "Don't."

She swallows, eyes searching mine. "I'm serious, Cath."

"I know you are," I counter. "And so am I."

Watching me, Sara shakes her head.

"Cather-"

"No," I cut her off. "You're right, Sara. Things between us are complicated. I honestly don't know what the hell to consider our relationship right now. Are we friends? Are we more than that? Are we less than that?"

I shrug, stepping slightly closer to her.

"I haven't the faintest idea in hell," I tell her seriously. "But what I _do_ know is that I care about you. That I will _always_ care about you."

Closing another few inches of distance between us, I stop.

"And I won't let you keep trying to give me a way out, Sara," I tell her sternly. "Because I don't want one."

Eyes watching me, Sara's jaw tightens.

She shakes her head darkly but remains silent.

"What?" I question, watching her closely. "Say what you want to say, Sara."

Shaking her head again, Sara turns.

"No," I call her back, reaching out to pull her back around. "Don't keep walking away."

Clenching her jaw, Sara's eyes are tense as they meet my own.

"Say it," I demand.

"You act differently," Sara finally says, voice tight. "You treat me differently."

Shaking my head in confusion, I stare at her blankly in return.

"What are you talking about?"

"The last time we spoke before everything with Liam," she tells me tensely. "You asked me to let you hate me."

She shakes her head.

"Then my brother comes into the picture, tells you some sob stories from our past, and now you're saying you care about me, that you want to be here for me."

Her eyes burn into my own.

"You can't find it in you to be upset with the girl who was raped and abused," Sara forces out. "And I'm telling you that's bullshit."

"Don't," I warn her darkly. "You know that's not how I feel."

"Isn't it?" Sara counters. "You tell me you hate me, and then later that day my brother tells you he and my father fucked me as a little girl, and so now you suddenly-"

Sara's words are cut off sharply as I feel my hand slap her across the face.

"Stop," I growl at her, hand stinging from the contact.

Head forced to the side by the strike, she slowly shifts her gaze back towards mine, her eyes dark.

"Don't you _dare_ refer to what happened to you like that," I force out. "Don't you dare, Sara."

Shaking her head, she clenches her hands.

"I'm just being honest," she counters. "You say you hate me, you find out I snorted lines of narcotics off our fucking porch, and yet now you've treated me like nothing ever happened, all because Liam told you some crap about how daddy used to like to-"

"Stop!" I seethe at her, grabbing her by the front of her shirt and pushing her back into the wall. "Stop it, Sara!"

Body tense under my fists, I feel Sara drag in one ragged breath after another, her body literally shaking beneath my hands.

"Stop it," I breathe out, shaking my head at her. "Jesus, Sara."

Eyes smoldering, Sara finally looks away, turning her head to the side.

"You need to stop doing this, Sara," I warn her tightly.

"You need to stop trying to push me away."

Sara doesn't respond, her gaze firmly directed elsewhere.

"You heard me last night," I state with understanding. "You heard what I said to you while you were asleep."

Sara's body continues to shake beneath my hands, jaw clenching and unclenching tightly.

"You heard me tell you I still loved you."

Sara doesn't say a word, but she doesn't have to.

"Sara," I tell her sternly. "I meant what I said, and it had absolutely nothing to do with Liam, with your past."

Watching her, I wish she would let me see her eyes.

"It had to do with us. With you. The person I loved before all this. The person I still love after it."

I watch her profile, feel her trembling body, hear the seconds literally ticking by in silence.

"Say something," I beg her. "Please, Sara, say something."

More silence greets me, until I finally see Sara lower her head slightly.

"Please let go of me," she gets out, voice nearly a whisper.

Immediately, my hands leave her.

Taking a step away from her, I watch Sara straighten slightly, moving away from the wall.

"I'm sorry," she tells me, still not meeting my eyes.

"Sara," I plead, knowing instinctively what is about to happen.

"I'm sorry," she repeats, stepping away and leaving the room before I can think of a single thing to do or say to stop her.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Tossing another shell into the crashing waves, I keep replaying my earlier altercation with Sara over and over again in my head.

It was so unexpected, so out of the blue, and I find myself still feeling off balance from it.

I know I probably should feel relieved about Sara finally expressing some emotion amidst everything that has happened, but I actually feel more nervous than I did before.

Something about the situation just didn't feel right.

Tossing another shell, I watch the sun as it starts to set against the horizon, bathing the sky in brilliant shades of orange.

I know the things Sara said were probably rooted somewhat in truth, but it felt different than her just expressing her frustration or her trying to push me away after hearing my admission that I still love her.

If that's what it was, then why wait until now to say something?

No, it's like she was trying to push me away from her not only emotionally, but physically as well. To be sure that, this evening, she would have time alone.

But why?

To do what?

Almost immediately, the answer comes to me.

Fucking hell.

I should have seen this coming.

Scrambling up through the sand, I break away at a sprint, trying to think of the fastest way to get myself to 1310 Rockhaven Drive.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	27. Chapter 27

**AN: Thank you all for your reviews to last chapter - really appreciated. Hope everyone is doing well, thank you so much for your continued support of this story, means a lot and keeps the inspiration coming.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 27<p>

"_I believe that one can never leave home. I believe that one carries the shadows, the dreams, the fears and the dragons of home under one's skin, at the extreme corners of one's eyes..."  
><em>

_-Maya Angelou_

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

I feel like I'm in a horror movie.

And, unfortunately for me, I'm blonde, which gives me reasonable suspicion that anything that can go wrong here will go wrong exclusively to me.

Moving silently with my back to the wall, I still cannot believe I just broke half a dozen laws crawling over a fence into a restricted area before all but breaking into Sara's old house.

I swear, if my suspicion is wrong and she isn't even here, I am going to have one hell of a problem.

Eying the kitchen as I pass, I cannot help the shiver that runs down my spine. While the outside of this house could almost be considered charming, the inside is anything but.

I try not to give too much thought to the locks I see placed along the majority of the doors, praying they were placed there for some reason after the Sidles were forced out.

Deep down, though, I know that's not the case. And deep down, I know the reasons locks get put on doors.

Squinting in the dim light of the almost completely set sun, I pray I locate Sara before this house is plunged into complete darkness.

"Sara?" I question, voice barely above a whisper.

No answer.

Moving along slowly, I come to the staircase, unsure if I should chose to stay on the main floor or head up to the bedrooms.

Eyes searching around me, I think about the situation.

If Sara came here to force herself to confront the grisly events that occurred in this house, where better to go than the place the pivotal event unfolded?

Taking a breath, I ascend the steps, moving upwards slowly as the wood creaks beneath my feet.

Reaching the landing at the top, I peer down the hall, identifying the door that seems to be the master bedroom.

Traveling quietly, my gaze is drawn to an open door to my right as I pass by.

Doing a double take, I pear inside, my feet stopping their motion.

Pushing the door open, I my breath catches as I realize where I am standing.

This, I somehow know without a doubt, was Sara's room.

Eyes moving around me, I note the sparse furniture, the single bed and desk the only items visible in the otherwise vacant space.

There are no pictures, no posters, no personal items whatsoever.

Moving further inside, I cautiously open one of the drawers.

Inside are papers, pencils, an assortment of other items neatly organized. Looking through them, I see old school assignments, notebooks filled with a slightly neater version of Sara's handwriting.

Glancing them over, it feels like this room is a time capsule, untouched from the night Sara's father was killed and the house became evidence before it was permanently closed away.

Looking around me, I note the closet, pausing when I see yet another lock installed on the doorframe. Closing my eyes briefly, I force myself to take more deep breaths, my head rising as I breathe in deeply.

Opening them, I cannot help the bittersweet smile that comes to my face when I see the glow-in-the-dark stars dotting the ceiling. It's the only sign of anything cheerful, anything indicating children once lived here. It's the only sign of normalcy that I have seen in this entire house since entering.

Somehow I know these stars are remnants of a happier time in the Sidle house, before the family morphed into something much darker, much too sinister to have permitted such a thing, the items just subtle enough to have escaped attention.

I absently wonder if Sara watched them at night, perhaps seeing them as a representation of better times, of happiness that she perhaps hoped to one day feel again.

Clenching my jaw tightly, I shake my head, forcing myself to leave this room before I lose my flimsy grip on my emotions.

Swallowing, I exit back out into the hallway, forcing myself to make no more detours as I complete my trip to the room at the end of the hall.

Taking a deep breath, I push the old wooden door silently open.

Nothing in this world could have prepared me for what I found inside.

* * *

><p>"Oh God," I mutter, eyes wide as I step carefully inside the doorway.<p>

Eyes shifting from wall to wall, I feel like I am entering one of our crime scenes, my mind already calculating the directionality of the castoff on the walls, the voids in the discoloration and what they could have represented.

My heart nearly drops to the floor when I remind myself that I know exactly what they represented.

The room looks like it has been frozen in time, dust covering every surface, but unable to hide the old and cracking blood staining nearly every surface my eyes land upon.

The walls, the floor, and the bed.

Holy hell, the bed.

It looks like someone submerged it in rivers of rust-colored water.

The sheets have been removed, likely sitting in some evidence storage somewhere, but the mattress was left behind, along with the frame.

Looking up, I see castoff splayed across the ceiling in garish streaks of brown, discoloration reaching locations across the entire surface.

"Calculating the angle of the knife?" a voice asks from behind me.

Whirling around, my hand clenches to my chest as my heart thunders beneath it.

"Jesus, Sara," I mutter, trying not to have a stroke.

Sara remains where she is standing against the far wall, hands clenched tightly at her sides.

"Are you alright?" I ask her, part of me relieved that I found her, part of me concerned that my suspicions were confirmed and she just spent the last hour or so alone in this house.

"You shouldn't be here," she tells me, voice hard to read. "The police are going to be watching this house tonight now that people know I'm back in town."

Her eyes finally shift to mine briefly.

"Trying to keep away the vandals and thrill seekers now that this house is fresh in everyone's mind."

I shrug.

"You shouldn't be here either," I counter. "But, you own it. Let them try to charge us with something."

Sara doesn't react, eyes shifting back towards the bed almost as if she didn't hear me.

Standing with her in silence for a few moments, I finally fix my gaze on her.

"What did you come here for?" I ask her quietly, curiously. "What were you hoping to accomplish by seeing it?"

Sara's brows furrow slightly, but she doesn't answer.

Finally, just when I had given up hope for an answer, she shakes her head slightly.

"I didn't come here to see it."

Furrowing my own brows this time, I am about to open my mouth to question her when the moonlight beginning to filter through the windows catches on something metallic in Sara's hand.

"Sara…" I draw out slowly, eyes wide.

Eyes shifting to mine, Sara follows my gaze towards her left hand.

Clenching her fingers tighter, she lifts the lighter slightly before lowering her arm back down.

"Were you really planning…." I trail off, shaking my head in shock.

"Yes," she answers me quietly, honestly.

Then, she pushes her hands deep into her pockets, gaze flicking to mine before moving away again.

"Why didn't you?" I question, my heart still hammering tightly in my chest.

She swallows, eyes still glued to the bed.

"I wanted to walk through it one last time before I did."

"And now that you have?" I pose, genuinely afraid of her potential answer.

I honestly don't know what I'm going to do if she tells me she wants to torch the entire thing. Can I really stop her? _Should_ I really stop her?

"I want it to stay," she responds, voice cutting off my thoughts. "It should stay."

Eyes shifting towards mine, her expression is hard to make out through the shadows that have now nearly completely taken over the room.

"As a reminder. A lesson."

Raising a brow, I look around me, taking in her answer. I know I for one will never forget this house, the story it tells.

"I think that's a good idea," I eventually tell her honestly.

All too often child abuse, and abuse in general, gets looked at as something that only happens on television or in the movies. It's never suspected in your friends, your neighbors, the house down the street with the perfectly manicured lawn.

I think having this house here serves as a good reminder that you never know what's going on in the lives of those around you. That abuse, in all its forms, is something that happens to real people. To seemingly 'normal' families.

It will perhaps inspire someone someday to take a closer look at a suspicious situation, to raise a question or concern that could potentially save a child like Sara from a whole mess of misery.

"I'm proud of you," I tell Sara, my eyes watching her profile.

Sara shakes her head, but otherwise doesn't comment.

"Something good should come out of this retched thing," she eventually mutters.

Swallowing and running a shaking hand through her hair, Sara glances at me.

"I think I need to get out of here," she tells me.

Reaching over, I extend my hand, hoping beyond hope that she takes it.

"Let's go," I tell her.

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

Anxiously pacing back and forth, I pull my keys from my pocket only to push them back down again.

"You're making me dizzy," I voice calls from behind me. "Which, at my age, could kill me."

Turning, I'm greeted by the amused face of an older man, sitting with his hands resting on a wooden cane laid across his lap.

"Sorry," I tell him. "Although I'm concerned that you would have heart problems at the age of thirty."

"Oh bless you," the man laughs. "You're darling to say that, and even more darling to have kept a straight face while doing so."

Smiling, I place myself on the edge of the seat across from him, much too anxious to even think about sitting like a normal person.

"You waiting for someone?" I ask him, trying to get my mind off of the people I myself am waiting for.

"My wife," he tells me. "Although I hope she doesn't come while I'm talking to you. She's always had a terrible jealous streak."

Laughing, I shake my head, not really sure if this guy is just completely pulling my leg.

"You?" he asks.

"My sister," I tell him. "And a very good friend."

Glancing back down at my watch, I try not to note the fact that they're a good fifteen minutes late. Or all the potential things that could mean.

I swear, if they don't step out of that terminal sometime soon, my elderly friend here is going to see firsthand just what heart problems look like in a thirty-something year old.

Hearing happy reunions playing out all around us, I shake my head.

"Bastards," I mutter, eliciting a snort from my companion.

Just as I am literally about to have a coronary, I spot my sister exit into the lobby, Sara following shortly after.

Getting to my feet, Sara makes eye contact with me, silently pointing Catherine in my direction.

Smiling, Catherine wastes no time taking me into her arms when she reaches me. We hug each other tightly, my eyes closing in relief at having her back.

I've missed her so much. I've been worried about her so much.

Pulling away, my eyes move to Sara, who is standing tensely like she knows exactly what's coming.

And she's right.

Reaching over, I pull her into my arms, holding her tightly as her arms move slowly to return the embrace.

"I don't think your friend likes hugs," my elderly companion offers from his chair.

Shaking my head, I pull away from Sara.

"Thanks," I tell him with a roll of my eyes.

But, in my peripheral vision, I see a smile playing at the corner of Sara's mouth, making me rethink my previously sarcastic thanks as it helped break some of the tension in her features.

"Take care," I offer him, my tone genuine this time as I take hold of one of my sister's bags for her.

"You too," he says. "And thanks for leaving before I had to explain you to my wife."

Raising her brow, Catherine sends me a look as we walk through the lobby towards the outside.

"What?" I eventually question, keeping my face neutral.

"Care to explain?" she asks.

"Ours was a brief, but torrid affair."

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

"Welcome back," I offer to Sara as I move to stand next to her by my Civic in the drive.

She sat in the back on the car ride home, leaving most of the conversation to me and my sister. This is the first chance we've really had to speak to one another since their return.

"Thanks," she responds, sending me a quick smile before turning to light the cigarette in her hand.

Eyes glancing back towards my house to be sure my sister is still inside, I lean my hip against my car.

"Your house has been released," I tell her, keeping my eye on the front door for any signs of Catherine. "It's ready for you if you still want to go back there."

Breathing out, Sara nods slowly.

"Thought I'd tell you before my sister so you can have some time to figure out what you want to do."

Eyes briefly meeting mine, Sara directs her gaze back out towards the porch.

"Thanks," she tells me quietly.

"You know you're welcome here, right?" I ask her genuinely.

Nodding, this time Sara's eyes stay on mine.

"I know."

"Okay," I tell her.

Breathing out, Sara shakes her head.

"I'm sorry things are so awkward," she offers. "That everything's become so complicated."

I shrug.

"Me too," I tell her simply.

Sara stays quiet, her brows furrowed in obvious thought, her mind focused on things I can only guess about.

"Nancy," she eventually says quietly, eyes rising back up to mine. "I…"

Trailing off, Sara shakes her head in frustration.

Swallowing, she clears her throat. "Just, thank you."

Smiling slightly, I take a chance and reach out and squeeze her shoulder, relieved that she doesn't pull away from me.

"You're welcome."

Sara moves to lean against the car next to me, both of us silently lost to the depths of our own thoughts.

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

"She asleep?" I question in shock, handing my sister a cup of coffee, eyes glancing towards the couch.

Packed bags still sitting next to her, Sara is slouched over, body awkwardly leaning against the arm of the couch.

"Yeah, I think so," Catherine says quietly. "She didn't sleep much on our trip."

Nodding, I gesture out towards the back porch with my head, hands wrapped around the warm mug beneath my fingers.

Following me outside, we situate ourselves on the swing. Reaching over, I pull the blanket over our laps, wrapping my legs up under me.

"I'm glad you're back," I tell her honestly.

Smiling, Catherine moves closer, running her fingers through my hair before leaning in to place a kiss into the tangled locks.

"Me too, Nance," she tells me quietly.

Swallowing some coffee, I rest the mug in my lap.

"You okay?" I ask her seriously, fixing my gaze on her. "I can only imagine what that trip must have been like for you guys."

Catherine shakes her head.

"I honestly don't know how I am," she answers. "The things I saw…about her…about her past…"

Trailing off, Catherine lets out a shaky breath.

I take my sister's free hand into my own.

Squeezing mine, Catherine turns her gaze to me.

"Are you okay?" she questions. "This is hard for you, too."

I take a deep breath.

"Sometimes I'm fine. Sometimes I'm not."

Nodding, Catherine directs her gaze out toward the yard.

"Part of me wonders if Sara isn't actually coping the best out of all of us," Catherine mutters.

I follow her gaze.

"I think Sara's just better at pretending than we are."

Smiling slightly, Catherine nods. "We always were quite blunt with our thoughts and feelings."

Squeezing her hand tighter, I shake my head.

"Yes, and please, don't you dare change."

Looking over at my tone, Catherine searches my eyes.

"Nancy?"

My eyes plead with her own.

"I'm worried, Cath. About her, about you. And I can't stand the thought of being shut out by both of you," I say, swallowing. "I don't know what I'd do."

Letting out a breath, Catherine pulls me close, her arm securely around my shoulders.

"Never, Nancy," she tells me sternly. "We've never shut each other out before, and I'm not starting now."

I search her eyes, finding only openness and honesty.

"Okay," I get out.

"Okay," she says firmly. "And that goes both ways."

"You have my word," I promise her without hesitation.

Trying to relax into my sister's embrace, I rest my head on her shoulder.

Part of me is relieved at knowing Catherine and I will at least have each other as we continue to deal with all that has happened.

But, another part of me grows fearful, suspecting that Sara will decide to move back into her old home.

But, what has me the most worried, is not what will happen if Sara leaves.

It's what will happen if Sara leaves and doesn't ask my sister to come with her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	28. Chapter 28

**AN: Sorry for the delay. Thank you all so much for your continued interest and support. Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 28<p>

_"Don't wait to define things before you move on with your life. Otherwise, you'll be left surrounded by things you still don't understand, and, what's worse, you'll be standing still."_

_-Anonymous  
><em>

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Reaching over, I pull at Sara's t-shirt near her shoulder.

Peering at me through her sunglasses, she raises a brow.

"Dust," I explain, brushing my hand off on my jeans. "I think…"

Snorting, Sara wipes absently at her body. "I hope."

"Me too," I tell her seriously, hating the thought that what I assumed to be dust could actually be more disturbing things, like spider webs.

Running a hand through her hair, Sara hands me a water bottle, leaning her back against the Tahoe.

"Thanks."

Taking a few swallows, I let my body return toward equilibrium, my temperature cooling and my pulse evening out.

An afternoon of cleaning out our old house has unfortunately made me very aware of just how much crap I have accumulated despite my best efforts.

Looking over, I note that Sara isn't drinking her own water, instead staring down at the bottle with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Sar?"

Pulled from her thoughts, she looks over at me. Seeing my questioning expression, she shakes her head.

"Sorry," she offers.

"Want to talk about whatever it is that's had you so distracted this afternoon?" I ask, wishing I could see her eyes through the dark lenses covering her face.

She takes a breath, brows furrowed.

"I just…"

Trailing off, she is clearly struggling to get her thoughts in order, to figure out what she wants to say to me and how best to say it.

After a moment or two, Sara finally lets out a breath in frustration.

"Are you sure you want to move back in here with me?" she gets out, tensely turning her water bottle in her hands as she absently gestures towards our old house that we just spent the afternoon cleaning with her head.

I stay silent, trying to figure out the motivation behind the question.

Sara has been quiet ever since she broached the topic of moving back into this house last night. Even then she wasn't very talkative, simply telling me her intentions of moving back in when we were alone in Nancy's kitchen after dinner. She told me she was planning to move back in the next day, and wanted to let me know I'm welcome there as well if I wish. She told me the house isn't 'hers' but 'ours', and that she would respect any decision I made before walking back out to help Nancy with dessert.

As if the decision was even a decision at all.

When I don't say anything in response to her question, Sara swallows tightly.

"This house isn't what it used to be," she gives in explanation. "I don't want you to feel obligated."

Swallowing again, she rubs her temples.

"I don't want you to have to relive everything," she reveals, voice tight. "What happened in there that day isn't something that just happened to _me_."

I nod, watching her closely.

"No it isn't," I agree.

Taking a breath, I straighten up, angling my body slightly closer to hers.

"But it's you, honey, that needs to be okay with being here," I tell her. "It was your brother, your past, your everything that played out in this house."

Watching her profile, I try to draw her gaze.

No luck.

"It's you that I'm worried about being back here," I tell her honestly, watching her as she continues to watch the water in her hands.

She's silent for a moment, head angling to the side.

"The guys replaced the carpet, the chairs, returned everything to just the way it was," she says.

"That's not what matters, Sara, and you know it."

"Are you really okay with moving back in?" she asks me, ignoring my statement.

"Yes," I tell her honestly. "It's our home."

Head finally turning to face me, she watches me closely for a few moments before she nods.

"Okay," she says simply, pushing away from the Tahoe to head back towards the house.

"Hey," I call after her, waiting until she stops and turns back around.

Walking up to her, I search her face.

"Are _you_ okay with going back there?" I ask seriously.

"Yes," she tells me without hesitation.

Taking a breath, I try to resist the urge to remove the sunglasses from her eyes.

But, the reasonable part of me knows that, sadly, even without her sunglasses I won't be able to read Sara's eyes unless she lets me.

I must look doubtful of her honesty, though, because Sara's expression shifts.

"Really, Catherine, it's fine."

A small, almost sad smile comes to her face.

"Besides, the good memories in that house outnumber the bad."

Finally opening her water bottle, Sara takes a small drink as she turns and heads back into the house to finish unpacking our things.

Watching her retreat, I am about to follow after her to help when my phone begins vibrating in my pocket. Pulling it out, I glance at the caller ID.

"Willows."

* * *

><p>"Check it again," I demand, trying to keep my voice low, eyes nervously watching the front door.<p>

"I've checked it three times, Catherine," Brass tells me tersely. "I don't know how the hell she did it, but she did."

"It's not possible," I tell him in disbelief. "It's too soon."

I hear him sigh on the other end of the phone.

"She's been cleared of all charges, given her formal statement. Now that she's passed her psyche eval, I have no legitimate reason to keep her from returning to duty."

"Then make up an illegitimate one!" I growl out. "She just got back from her brother's funeral less than 48 hours ago."

"I wish I could," Brass tells me. "I honestly do."

"She's not okay," I tell him sternly. "I'm warning you right now, she's not okay. I don't care what that damn psyche eval says."

"Unless you're willing to make a formal complaint against her ability to perform her duties, my hands are tied," he tells me quietly.

"This is bullshit," I tell him bluntly. "And this is a huge mistake."

Hearing him sigh, his voice is quieter when he speaks this time. "There's nothing more you or I can do here, Catherine. I'm sorry, I really am."

Knowing my anger is not with him, but with the situation, I sigh as well.

"I know," I mutter before hanging up.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"Who was that?" Sara asks me when I step back inside, gesturing to the phone still in my hand.

"Brass," I tell her, trying to keep my voice casual. "Where do you want me to put the keys to your Tahoe?"

Sending me a suspicious look, Sara watches me for a moment before gesturing to the counter.

Placing her keys there, I try to appear busy folding my clothing as I pull it from my suitcase.

"You want to talk about it?" Sara offers with a small smile, replaying my own words spoken just minutes before back to me.

Looking up, I see her eyes watching mine, her expression gentle, but concerned.

Letting out a breath, I put down the shirt in my hands.

"You passed your psyche eval," I tell her, watching her reaction.

Sara tenses slightly, but keeps her reaction carefully controlled.

"Oh," she says simply. "Good, thanks."

"Sure," I tell her, resuming my folding.

Eventually, I let out a sigh, once again putting the shirt down.

"Were you going to tell me about it, Sara?" I ask her, watching as her eyes move back up to meet mine.

"About my psyche eval?" she questions in confusion.

"Yes," I answer. "That you were taking it this morning during your 'errands' you had to run."

Sara shrugs.

"Not really," she tells me honestly, still looking confused. "I wasn't aware it was something you needed to be told."

"Why?" I scoff. "Because we're not together anymore?"

"What?" Sara gets out, her expression now completely baffled.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "Because I assumed we were all in agreement that I'm still sane, and therefore taking a psyche eval to prove that isn't some big, noteworthy event."

Eyes searching mine, Sara puts down her own clothing in her hands.

"Catherine?" she questions, no doubt trying to figure out my behavior right now.

"I need some air," I tell her, not waiting for a response before I stand and make my way from the house.

* * *

><p>About five minutes pass before I feel Sara step up to lean against the porch railing beside me.<p>

"You okay?" she asks quietly. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want, I just want to know if you're okay."

Taking a long breath, I watch the front yard, not ready to meet her eyes despite my earlier wishes to do just that.

"I'm okay," I tell her honestly. "Just have a lot on my mind."

Turning to watch the yard with me, Sara nods slowly.

"I'm here if you need me," she offers. "And I can also be not here if that helps instead."

Finally looking over, I watch her profile before shaking my head.

"The former," I tell her. "It's always going to be the former, Sara."

Sara nods.

"Okay," she says simply.

Watching the various activities of nature going on around us, she takes a breath.

"Do you think we're making a huge mistake, Catherine?" she asks. "Moving back in together before we even know what our relationship is anymore?"

I shrug. "Probably."

Raising a brow, Sara turns toward me.

Following suit, I meet her eyes before shrugging again.

"We probably are," I say. "But quite frankly, I don't really give a shit."

Not able to help the snort that comes out in response to my unexpected answer, she sends me a look before growing serious again.

"There's so much we haven't even talked about, Cath," she tells me quietly, her eyes conflicted as they meet mine.

"I know," I tell her.

"I'm serious," she says sadly, eyes lowering. "We haven't talked about any of it…those pictures…"

She shakes her head, "What went on in those pictures…"

"I know," I tell her again, stepping slightly closer to her.

"Catherine…"

"Shh, Sar," I tell her, reaching out and placing my hand gently across her chest. "We'll figure it out."

She still looks conflicted, her eyes troubled as they raise to mine.

Cupping her face gently with my hands, I shake my head.

"We'll figure it out, sweetheart," I tell her gently. "Together."

I feel her take a deep breath, not looking convinced, her expression tense as she looks down at me.

"Trust me?" I ask her in a whisper, searching her eyes.

She's silent for a moment, before some of the tension finally starts to leave her frame.

"Always," she tells me quietly and simply.

Taking another breath, her expression softens further, her hands reaching up to take mine from her face so that she can hold them in her own.

"Always."

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Enjoying our evening together before we head back to work in the morning, I am about to shove another forkful of lasagna into my mouth when my phone rings.

I don't know why I'm so popular today.

"Willows," I answer without looking at the ID.

"Flynn."

Shaking my head, I roll my eyes, neither of which my sister can see.

"Funny," I tell her dryly.

"I thought so," she tells me, and though her words are playful, I can hear the edge to her voice lying underneath.

"What's going on?" I ask her, trying to sound casual.

"Have you looked at any of the news out of the bay area lately?" she asks.

Furrowing my brows at her unexpected question, I idly glance up at Sara who is currently not paying me much attention as she pours herself more water.

"No, why?" I ask, keeping my tone even.

"You might want to look," Nancy tells me cryptically.

"Okay, great," I respond, tone light.

"She's there with you?" Nancy assumes based on my strange reaction.

"Yes."

"When you look, do it alone," Nancy warns.

"Sounds good," I tell her, watching as Sara swallows some water before returning her glass to the table and taking hold of her fork.

Hanging up, I tuck my phone back in my pocket.

"Nancy wants to do breakfast sometime this week," I offer in explanation, feeling bad for lying but not really seeing another option at the moment.

Glancing up, Sara nods.

"Okay," she tells me, watching me for a moment before returning her attention to her food.

Breathing in, I try to follow suit, when all I can think about is what I'm going to find on the internet the first free moment I get to look.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Yes, I'm still alive. No, I haven't given up on this story. Not at all. In summary: My computer died right in the middle of preparing a presentation, I watched online videos regarding how to dismantle said brand of computer, dismantled said computer, removed harddrive, transferred harddrive into old computer, harddrive completely corrupted and unsalvageable, entire rest of story gone. The end. So, needless to say - it has taken me some time to try to recover what I now know is unrecoverable. Then it took me time to convince myself not to jump in the bathtub with my toaster. Then it has taken me time to start rewriting everything.**

**So, I apologize for the delay. But I do have every intention of continuing this story as planned. Not even a question. It may take some time and effort to rewrite everything, but you guys are more than worth it and more than deserve it.**

**Hope everyone is doing well. Here we go, back on the journey :)**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 29<p>

_"Where is the light? _

_Where is the dark?_

_Is this the end?_

_Or is this the start?"_

* * *

><p>SOFIA POV<p>

"Gun," I state, placing the item on my desk with a solid thud.

"Badge."

Sliding both across the wooden surface, Sara immediately picks them up, checking the safety on her weapon before placing both at her hip.

"Thanks," she tells me, glancing up just quickly enough to offer me a nod before making her way from my office.

Apparently Sara isn't looking to waste a single moment of her first shift back now that she's officially been cleared for duty.

"You're welcome," I mutter into my already empty office with a bemused shake of my head. "Welcome back."

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"Anything else?" I inquire in a tone that isn't particularly welcoming to further comments nor concerns.

A chorus of "no"s and silent head shakes fill the room.

"Then let's get to work," I suggest tersely.

Papers shuffle and chairs squeek as various members of the nightshift quickly make their way from the break room.

Rubbing my temples and letting out a sigh, I nearly jump out of my skin when a coffee suddenly appears on the table in front of me.

Looking up, I meet a pair of slightly amused hazel eyes.

"You want to talk about it?" Sara asks into the now empty room.

"Talk about what?"

"Oh, I don't know," she shrugs. "Perhaps your less than joyful approach to your job this morning?"

Letting out a breath, I lower my gaze.

"Just a bit out of sorts being back I guess," I offer.

When I look up, her expression has shifted, her gaze now watching me with no hint of her former amusement.

"I'm around," she tells me seriously, eyes warm and gentle. "If you decide you want to talk about whatever's bothering you."

Stepping around me, she gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze of support before she heads out to go to her scene.

Shit.

* * *

><p>Dropping my case files loudly on my desk, I glare at the pile of papers currently residing in my inbox.<p>

It's going to take most of shift just to sort through them all, let alone get anything else accomplished.

Hearing a knock on my door, I don't even look up.

"What?" I grind out.

"Oh, uh, sorry to bother you," is the hesitant reply.

"Get to the point, Greg."

"I have some results back on the samples you submitted last week," he tells me. "Where would you like them?'

"The inbox is a fine idea," I suggest none-too-kindly.

"Right," he mutters quietly, cheeks turning red as he places the papers along the top of the stack.

Leaving my office quickly, I watch his rapid retreat down the hall.

Forcing myself to take a calming breath, I pull out a pen.

Perhaps, considering my current mood, paperwork is the best thing for me today.

Sheets of paper don't get their feelings hurt when you snap at them for absolutely no good reason.

* * *

><p>Glancing at my watch, I note the time.<p>

Nearly twenty minutes past the end of shift, and I'm just now finishing going through the forms from the cases that were closed during my absence.

Glancing up, I catch a flash of blonde hair moving across the hall in front of my office.

Jumping to my feet, I step out into the lab, grabbing hold of the owner of the blonde hair by the arm and pulling her into an open doorway.

"How'd it go?" I question.

"Excuse me?" Sofia replies, eyebrows raised.

"You know what I'm asking you."

"The scene went fine, Catherine."

"Curtis..."

"Look," Sofia cuts me off tersely. "You asked me to look out for her, and I will. And not just because you asked, but because I consider her a friend."

Fixing me with a look, her eyes grow dark.

"But to be honest," she tells me lowly, "Sara isn't the one whose personal issues seem to be getting in the way of their work."

She sends me a purposeful look, one clearly suggesting I get my own shit together before I go worrying about other people.

"Now if you'll excuse me…" she states, eyes directed pointedly to my hand which is still firmly griping her arm.

Immediately letting go, I watch her give me one last glance before she steps back out into the hall and out of sight.

* * *

><p>Entering the locker room, I see Sara setting her pager on the shelf of her locker, getting ready to head home just as I hoped.<p>

Glancing over at my entrance, she looks behind me to be sure no one else followed me inside.

"Hey," she greets warmly as she pulls her shirt over her head, straightening the tank top underneath before grabbing a fresh one from her bag.

"Body dump at the water processing plant," she offers in explanation.

"They burned down your house."

Hands pausing their motion, she stands there, stock still, arms frozen with her shirt raised halfway towards her head.

After a few moments, Sara completes the action, tugging the material over her shoulders and into place.

Reaching forward, she takes hold of her keys.

"Sara?" I question. "Did you hear what I said?"

"I heard you," she replies.

"Sara," I call again, watching her tuck her keys in her pocket and close her locker door. "Honey, stop."

Finally looking up, her gaze meets mine.

"It's okay to be upset, sweetheart," I tell her, trying desperately to read her eyes.

Shaking her head, Sara lets out a breath.

"It is what it is," she says quietly. "There's no point in getting upset about it."

"I know how much you wanted that house to serve a purpose," I counter, hating to see her good intentions literally burned to the ground.

After everything that happened, Sara wanted only one thing from that house, and even that was taken from her.

I'm pissed, and I'm genuinely confused as hell as to why she isn't also.

Furrowing her brows, she shakes her head.

"It still can," she tells me.

Watching my confused and doubtful expression, Sara shrugs.

"The insurance payout on that thing is going to be amazing, Catherine."

A ghost of a smile lights her face, and I find myself marveling at the woman standing before me. The woman who has been through so much darkness in her life, yet always finds a way to see through to the light.

Always finds a way to help those around her see through to the light as well.

"What will you do with the money?" I ask, trying to refocus my emotions. I know Sara well enough to know she won't keep a penny of it.

"Not sure," she answers honestly. "But I have a couple ideas."

Watching me closely, she quirks her head to the side.

"Is this what you've been so upset about today?" she asks me, eyes furrowed in concern.

"Yes," I admit quietly. "I didn't know how to tell you."

"Catherine," she breathes out, taking a slight step closer to me. "You should've just told me. I hate the idea that you've been so upset about this."

"The things those articles said, Sara," I breathe out, having a hard time meeting her eyes. "About that house…about you…"

I shake my head darkly. "They don't know you."

"No," she agrees. "But they knew my family."

"Sara-" I start, but she cuts me off with shake of her own head.

"The town wanted to move on, didn't want me to entertain any thoughts of moving back in there."

She shrugs.

"It's over," she tells me. "For better or worse, that retched thing is gone. Now maybe we _all_ can move on."

Closing my eyes, I take a moment to collect myself, collect my emotions.

When I open them back up again, Sara's hazel gaze is still on mine, her eyes gentle and sincere.

Stepping forward, I close the remaining distance between us, placing my hands along her hips.

"You amaze me," I tell her, voice barely a whisper. "Your kindness, your selflessness, your everything. You amaze me…"

Reaching out, Sara runs her thumbs gently across my cheeks, wiping at tears I didn't even know were there.

"Yeah?" Sara questions, her own voice a whisper, her own eyes wrought with emotion. "Then maybe someday I'll be half the woman that's standing before me."

Leaning forward, she places a soft, gentle kiss along my temple, her lips remaining near my ear.

"I still love you, too, Catherine," she whispers into my hair, finally responding to the words I spoke to her days before. Words that have, until now, gone unanswered. "I will _always_ love you."

Closing my eyes, I feel new tears trace pathways down my cheeks, this time neither one of us making a move to wipe them away.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	30. Chapter 30

**AN: Thank you all for your kind reviews - nice to know people are still interested in this story. You guys truly keep the inspiration coming. Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 30<p>

"_All doors remain closed until we're ready to open them. But where does the greater evil lie - in the unexplored potential should they remain forever closed, or in the disasters that may be unleashed should we find the courage to toss them open?"_

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

"This is bullshit," I call out, drawing to a stop and placing my hands on my head. "Absolute bullshit."

Raising a brow, Sara turns to face me, amusement lighting her eyes.

"There's no way this is right," I shake my head.

"Want to borrow mine?" Sara questions, trying gallantly to keep a straight face.

"No," I tell her. "I'd rather think my watch is broken than admit it just took me forty minutes to run three miles."

I place my hands on my knees, still trying to catch my breath.

"Why the hell do you put up with me?" I ask Sara, who hasn't even broken a sweat. Even Mesa looks like he has barely has a piece of fur out of place. "I just slow you down."

"I like to watch your meltdowns."

Tossing my towel at her, I pull out my water and take a couple sips when I feel confident enough that I won't aspirate the liquid straight into my lungs.

"Go ahead and finish your run," I tell her. "I'm going to walk the rest of the way back."

Shaking her head, Sara glances down at Mesa, giving him some water.

"I think I'd rather walk back with you," she says. "If that's alright."

Studying her, I nod slowly.

"More than alright."

Straightening up, we both start walking the last couple miles back towards my house.

"Your leg okay?" I ask her, trying to determine if that's the reason she's electing not to finish her run.

"Yeah," she answers with a shrug. "Just rather spend the time with you since we haven't gotten to see each other in awhile."

"Okay," I tell her, deciding to take her answer at face value, whether or not it's the truth.

We spend the next couple minutes talking about basic things, like work. After a bit, I note a change in Sara's demeanor, her body language growing hesitant.

We walk in silence, both of us deep in our own thoughts.

"Nancy, can I ask you something?" she eventually questions.

"Of course."

"I don't want to pry," she hedges. "And you don't have to tell me anything. But, how are you doing with everything regarding Chris?"

I answer her without hesitation, never feeling the need to hide anything from Sara.

"Better," I tell her honestly. "Some days are still hard, but definitely doing better."

Reading my face, Sara turns her attention back to the road.

"You're sleeping okay?"

"Yes," I answer. "I still see my therapist, and putting it all out in the open with him really helps. Not much left unsaid to haunt my nights."

Nodding, Sara watches Mesa.

"Why?" I ask.

Looking over at me, Sara doesn't say anything for a bit, eyes unreadable. Then, I can almost see her come to some sort of internal decision.

"I haven't been around to check in with you as much as I would have liked," she tells me, voice quiet. "Wanted to be sure you were doing okay."

She doesn't say anything more for a bit, and the unspoken words hang between us. Particularly the unspoken part about _why_ she hasn't been around as much. The infidelity that turned out not to be infidelity, the drug use that actually turned out to be drug use, her brother's suicide. It all hangs heavily between us.

"I, uh," she starts, clearing her throat. "I wanted to make sure, especially now with Catherine moving back in with me."

Furrowing my brows, she sees my confusion.

"It seemed like you were doing better with her around those past weeks," she explains. "I hate feeling like I'm taking her away from you."

"Sara," I shake my head. "I love my sister, don't get me wrong. But she belongs at home with you, not me."

Smiling, I send her a look.

"I would've kicked your scrawny ass if you didn't offer for her to move back in with you," I confess.

Smiling slightly as well, Sara shakes her head.

"You're really doing okay?" she questions seriously.

I meet her eyes squarely with my own.

"I promise."

Studying me, I let Sara see the honesty in my statement.

Finally, she nods, looking relieved.

Turning, I hear her clear her throat, trying hard to keep a smile from her face.

"What?" I ask, quirking a brow, wiping at the sweat still trickling down my face.

"Just wondering if now is a good time to tell you we passed your house about two blocks ago."

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

"My God," I mutter, shoving another forkful into my mouth. "How are you not five hundred pounds by now?"

"Excuse me?" Catherine questions with bemusement, head in the refrigerator.

"This lasagna is ridiculous," I elaborate. "I'd have eaten the whole pan of it."

"I don't doubt that," my sister tells me, closing the fridge to place a bottle of wine on the counter.

Pouring us both a glass, she hands mine over.

"Thanks," I tell her.

"Speaking of your woman's amazing lasagna," I state. "Where is she?"

Rolling her eyes at my phrasing, Catherine sips her own wine.

"'My woman' as you like to say, got called into work," she tells me. "But she should be back in a couple hours."

"She going to be mad I ate all the leftover lasagna?" I question.

"Nope," Catherine answers with a smile. "Especially because that's the portion she dropped on the floor."

Shrugging, I don't even slow down as I continue to shove forkfuls into my mouth. I'm fairly confident she's joking, but even if she's not, this lasagna is too damn good to give a shit about whether it came from the stove, the floor, or the bathtub.

Yes, it's _that_ good.

Reaching the last bite, I physically push my plate away to stop any thoughts about licking it clean.

Taking a couple sips of wine, I watch Catherine, noting her expression that's markedly more peaceful than I've seen it in a long time.

"You guys okay?" I ask her gently, not wanting to intrude or wreck her peaceful thoughts.

"Yeah," she says, letting out a small smile. "I think we will be."

"You talked?"

Her expression falls slightly, "Not exactly."

Staying silent, I let her work through her thoughts and what she wants to share or not share.

Letting out a breath, she brings her eyes to mine.

"She told me she still loved me."

Eyebrows raising, I put down my glass.

"Yeah?" I question. "That's great, Catherine."

I pause for a moment.

"That _is _great, right?" I hesitate.

Smiling, she nods, sending me a look.

"Of course it is."

Growing quiet again, Catherine swirls the wine in her glass.

"It tells me she's still interested in me," she says. "Perhaps still interested in _us_."

"Are _you_ interested?" I ask her seriously.

"Yes," she tells me without pause.

Eyes on mine, she shakes her head.

"I miss her so much, Nancy."

Reaching out, I place my hand over hers, running my thumb along her knuckles.

"Talk to her," I encourage. "You guys can't keep living like this. You're both suffering whether you want to admit it or not."

"It's complicated," she tells me, eyes conflicted. "We haven't even discussed much of anything, not even those pictures."

I watch her, reading between the lines.

"You mean you haven't talked with her about the drugs."

She lets out a breath.

"Yes."

"Cath," I call gently, squeezing her hand. "Just talk to her. You need to get this stuff off your chest."

"But what about her?" she counters. "With all she's going through, I'm supposed to just dump this on her now too?"

"There's never going to be a 'good time', Catherine," I tell her. "It's always going to be hard for you both to talk about. And yeah, she has a lot going on, but she's going to have a lot going on for awhile. You guys need to get this out in the open," I state. "Cause you're both going to stay stuck in this same spot until you do."

Watching me, Catherine takes in my words, her free hand gripping the counter.

Finally looking away, she shakes her head.

"When did you become so smart?" she asks, expression softening. "What happened to my baby sister who used to speak Klingon to the neighborhood squirrels?"

Smiling, I shrug.

"She had a great role model," I answer. "And she learned that squirrels actually speak Romulan."

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Tapping my fingers anxiously against the glass in my hands, I watch the street, both hoping and dreading the headlights I know will be coming any minute.

Sure enough, a set of headlights cut through the dark, momentarily blinding me as they cut across the yard as the Tahoe pulls into the drive.

Engine shutting off, I down the rest of the wine in my glass, trying to force a calm expression onto my face.

Making her way up the steps, Sara spots me sitting in the dark, furrowing her brows slightly as she steps up against the porch railing.

"Hey," she offers quietly.

"Hey."

Searching my eyes, she pushes her keys into her pocket.

"You okay?" she asks, voice concerned.

"I need to talk to you," I state, needing to stop the torture of anticipation and cut to the point.

"Okay," she tells me, turning to lean her hip against the rail.

"You're going to want to sit for this," I warn her.

Raising a brow, Sara continues to watch me for a moment before nodding slowly and pulling over one of the empty chairs.

Sitting, she waits silently for me to voice my thoughts.

"Wine?" I ask her, gesturing to the open bottle and extra glass I brought out for her.

"No thanks," she tells me, eyes not leaving mine.

"I want to talk about us," I blurt out. "About what you want, including whether you want there to be an _us_."

She takes in my words, eyes hard to read.

"I also want to talk about those pictures, Sara," I tell her. "About the drugs."

Her eyes leave mine briefly before she forces them back.

"Okay."

"Why did you start?" I question, cutting right to the chase. The need for answers almost overwhelming me now that I've opened the floodgates.

She shakes her head, "Because I was an idiot, and chose the worst possible way to deal with what I was feeling at the time."

"What were you feeling?"

Her eyes darken slightly.

"Anger," she admits quietly. "A whole lot of anger."

I take this in, not expecting that answer.

"Anger at whom?"

She shakes her head, "Everything, everyone."

"You should have come to me," I tell her seriously, my own expression stern. "You should have told me."

"I know."

"No, Sara," I counter. "I don't think you do."

Fixing her with a look, I shake my head. "When I saw those pictures, when I saw what you were _doing_ in those pictures. You sitting there so vacant, so hollow, so pale…"

Swallowing, I try to clamp down on my emotions.

"I'm sorry," she offers in a whisper. "I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm so sorry, Catherine."

"Never again," I grind out, eyes burning into hers, knowing in the end I really don't have anything more important to say about the matter than that. "Never again."

"You have my word," she promises me, gaze remaining locked with mine.

Taking a breath, I try to calm myself, try to soften my gaze.

"You've changed," I tell her.

Eyes narrowing slightly in confusion, she remains silent.

"The alcohol for one thing," I tell her, gesturing to the bottle next to me. "You haven't had a single drink since everything happened."

Eyes looking away, she shrugs, looking out into the dark night.

"Figured it was probably the last thing I needed in light of recent events."

"I'm proud of you," I tell her, my words drawing her eyes back to mine in surprise. "I really am, Sara. I know how hard you're trying to work through everything, and you've been so remarkably strong and positive about it all."

I reach forward, taking a chance as I reach for her hand.

Allowing the contact, her eyes move down to the joined limbs.

"But I need you to be honest with me, Sara," I struggle to get out past the emotions collecting in my throat. "Are you really okay?"

Silent and still, Sara doesn't respond, eyes remaining fixed on our hands.

"I don't know," she finally responds, words so quiet I barely hear her.

Eyes lifting to at last meet mine, she swallows hard against her own emotions. "I don't know, Catherine."

Studying her, I lace our fingers together, giving her hand a light squeeze.

"Okay," I tell her quietly, sincerely. "Thank you for being honest."

Nodding slightly, she turns her head back out towards the night,no doubt trying to cope with the weight of her admission.

"I, uh," she starts, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand. "I don't know about your other question, either."

"What?" I ask, not sure what she's referencing.

"About wanting an us," she clarifies, voice heavy.

"Oh," I state, body tensing.

Hand gripping mine tightly before I can pull away, Sara returns her gaze to mine.

"I want to be with you, Catherine," she tells me, eyes thick with emotion. "God, I want to be with you more than anything."

She shakes her head. "But I don't know if I can justify possibly dragging you down to God knows where if I'm not ready. If I'm not okay…if I'm somehow screwed up from all this…"

"Shh," I call out, reaching forward with my free hand to take hold of the side of her face and keep her gaze on mine. "I'm not pressuring you, honey. I'm willing to wait, however long you need."

Sara clenches her jaw, her eyes filling with moisture as she looks away.

"What if I'm never ready," she gets out. "What if I can't…"

She trails off, body so tense she is literally shaking beneath my fingers.

"Look at me," I tell her.

"Sara, look at me."

Finally, her eyes raise to mine.

"I'm going to wait for you, whether there ever becomes an us again or not, I'm going to keep waiting for you."

"But-"

"There's no one else," I state, cutting off her protests before they can start. "In this entire world, there's no one else for me."

Removing my hand from hers, I use both mine to hold her face.

"It's you, Sar," I whisper. "It's you or no one."

Smiling at her through my tears, I shake my head.

"And, sweetheart, you're beyond worth it to me. God, you're worth waiting for, regardless of whatever happens."

Before I know what's happening, I feel Sara's lips against mine, her own hands finding their way to my hair.

The kiss deepens, our tongues reuniting and our hands clinging to each other as though our very lives depend on it.

Finally breaking away, Sara rests her forehead against mine before pulling slightly back.

"I don't deserve you," she tells me, words whispered into the night air.

Eyes raising to mine, she keeps her hands holding my face.

"I love you," she tells me, eyes glistening with tears she's struggling not to let fall. "And you have my word that I'll do everything in my power to find my way back to you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	31. Chapter 31

**AN: Thank you to all those who reviewed - your kind words and support never cease to amaze me. **

**Hope everyone is doing well. Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 31<p>

_"The repose of sleep refreshes only the body. It rarely sets the soul at rest..Sleep opens within us an inn for phantoms. In the morning we must sweep out the shadows."_

_Gaston Bachelard_

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Sitting up slowly, I reach over in the darkness, hand coming to rest gently against her back.

Feeling her tremors, I keep my touch light, fingers softly trailing across her shoulder blades.

"You alright?" I ask in a whisper, not knowing why I'm afraid to shatter the silence that was already broken minutes before by the sounds of her screams.

"Yeah," she breathes out, hand running through tangled hair as she drags in a ragged breath. "I'm sorry, Catherine."

"Stop," I counter, cutting short her apology, just like I have the last two nights this has happened.

Shaking her head, the tense set to her shoulders lets me know she's going to keep beating herself up inside whether I allow her to voice her feelings or not.

Sitting with her in the darkness, I wait until I feel her breathing even out.

"You think you can get back to sleep?" I ask her, fingers running across the soft cotton material of her shirt.

"Sure," she offers, voice distracted and anything but convincing.

"Come on," I call softly, pulling her gently down with me.

Leaving the blankets at our waists, I hesitate only a moment before placing my arm protectively around her. With my free hand, I reach up and run my fingers softly through her dark hair.

"Close your eyes, sweetheart," I instruct quietly after a few minutes, watching her hesitate as her body remains stiff beneath my hands.

Keeping my fingers moving slowly through her hair, I continue to watch her.

"Close your eyes, Sara."

Eventually, after nearly ten more minutes of silence, I feel Sara's body slowly start to relax beneath my touch. Another five and she has finally lowered her guard enough that exhaustion pulls at her eyelids.

She fights sleep hard, but it's soon a lost battle as her fatigue leaves her no choice but surrender.

Eyes closing and breathing evening out, I watch her for a little while longer, only allowing my own eyes to close when I'm sure Sara's sleep isn't just another nightmare.

* * *

><p>"I look ridiculous."<p>

"You look very handsome," Sara counters, reaching over to straighten Brass' tie before giving his shoulder a squeeze.

Rolling his eyes, Brass tugs at his collar.

"The event isn't until six, I don't get why I have to wear this monkey suit all day," he gripes. "It's hot as blazes out today."

"You're indoors," Sara tells him with a raised brow.

"Thanks," he offers, giving her another eye roll.

"Look," Sara tells him with a smile. "Today is about honoring you for thirty years of service to the department. You deserve it, so you're just going to have to get over it."

Letting out a smile of his own, Jim shakes his head at Sara, trying to appear disgruntled, but unable to hide the warmth from his gaze as he looks at her.

Those two have always shared a special bond, and I know hearing Sara's words and having her support means more to him than he'll ever admit out loud.

Looking over at me, he hands me the warrants we came to his office to get.

"Whatever," he groans. "Might as well get back to work. The sooner we get the day started, the sooner we get the day over with."

"That's the spirit," I tell him with a wink. "We'll see you tonight at the gala."

"With bells on," Sara offers him with a wink of her own as we make our way from his office.

Separating, Sara and I take Brass' advice, going our separate ways to start the day.

* * *

><p>"Hey," I call, cringing as I see Sara jump at the sound of my voice.<p>

"Hey," she offers back, not commenting on her reaction.

Watching her, I decide not to comment as well. The last couple days following our conversation on the porch, I've noticed subtle changes starting to take place with the brunette. Changes that have had me growing more and more concerned.

Nightmares, for one, have started to accompany her nights. They come once or twice per night, and they come with a violent intensity that I have never seen in any of her other nightmares prior. These nightmares make those look like the stuff of fairy tales.

Then there's the way that she jumps when there's a loud noise or unexpected touch, almost as if her mind is still somewhere back in her nightmares. Or somewhere she's uncertain about the intentions of those around her.

Part of me is relieved to finally see some cracks emerging in Sara's otherwise stoic reaction to all the events that transpired. But, part of me is terrified of what will happen if those cracks expand and the dam she's still hiding most of her feelings behind breaks.

I wonder if Sara noticed the changes in herself before I did, perhaps that being the reason she was so hesitant about getting back into a relationship with me. The reason she expressed uncertainty regarding her state of mind.

"You look perplexed," I offer, pulling myself from my own troubled thoughts, leaning my hip against the layout table she's working at.

Looking up, her thoughtful eyes meet mine before returning to the pictures in her hands.

"I am," she answers. "And you look tired."

Smiling slightly, I nod.

"I am."

Nodding slowly, she puts the pictures down on the table.

"I'm sorry."

"No," I counter. "We agreed not to do this. Not to keep apologizing for things like this that are no one's fault."

"By we you mean me," she responds.

"Yes," I tell her.

Eyes raising and watching me a moment, Sara eventually shakes her head slightly, not commenting further.

"I actually came in here because I have a question for you," I offer, changing topics.

"Yeah?" she asks, raising a brow, gaze returning to the images displayed before her.

"I wanted to know if you would be my date tonight at the gala."

Motions stilling, Sara's eyes immediately return to mine in surprise.

"What?" she questions, brain trying to catch up with her ears.

"You heard me," I tell her, smiling slightly at her befuddled expression.

"Oh," she starts, eyes thick with thoughts and emotions I can't figure out quickly enough as they race by. "Oh..I, uh…"

"Look," I cut in. "You don't have to, I didn't mean to pressure you into something you aren't ready for. I meant it as no strings attached, not as a sign that we're getting back together or anything, I just hate being at those sorts of things single, and so I thought-"

"Yes," Sara interrupts, her expression back to her usual collected calm, a slight smile gracing her lips. "The answer's yes, Catherine."

Stepping slightly closer, she reaches out, taking my hand into hers. "It would be my honor."

"Oh," I get out, tense breath leaving my lungs. "Okay, good."

Smiling further, Sara shakes her head at me.

"It's weird when you're nervous."

Seeing my expression, she shrugs.

"You're the most confident person I know," she explains. "It's disconcerting to see you unsure of yourself."

"I'm confident about a lot of things," I agree. "But never about Sara Sidle."

"Really?" she questions sincerely, quirking her head to the side. "Why?"

"Because she's a part of my life that I really, really don't ever want to screw up."

I search her gaze, our hands still locked together.

"I care about her way too much for that."

Lacing our fingers together, Sara swallows before nodding.

"She feels the same."

Taking a steadying breath, Sara shakes her head.

"And she also wants to stop talking about herself in the third person."

Smiling, I can't help but laugh as I lean forward and place a gentle kiss against her hair.

Giving her hand a squeeze, I pull away, pausing for a moment in the doorway.

"Get back to work," I tell her playfully. "You've got a hot date tonight."

* * *

><p>"And since the 'button incident,' the department's never been the same."<p>

A chorus of laughs fills the room, and a smile graces my own lips as I look around me, one hand sipping on my champagne while the other holds Sara's under the table.

Nick and Greg are sitting across from us, each with their own dates that look just a bit more than tipsy.

Smiling wider, I shake my head, enjoying the time to relax as a team outside of work. It feels like forever since we have seen each other outside the four walls of the lab.

Lifting her water, Sara also looks more relaxed than I've seen her in a long while, the brunette smiling softly at something Brass is saying to the crowd.

Once the speeches finish, the guests mull about, laughter and alcohol consumption both increasing in direct relation to one another as the night progresses.

Eyes meeting mine across the room, Sara watches me as she talks with someone from day shift, my own eyes watching her.

Excusing herself from her conversation, Sara gestures to the back hallway.

Catching her hint, I follow suit, pulling out of my own conversation that I wasn't paying much attention to anyway.

Stepping down the dim hallway, I gasp as a pair of gentle hands pull me into an empty spare room.

Fingers getting lost in my hair, Sara's lips meet with mine, both of us eager yet gentle as we deepen the kiss.

Pulling back slightly, Sara shakes her head.

"Sorry," she offers in a whisper, sounding anything but. "I've been wanting to do that all night."

"You and me both," I tell her honestly.

All night, I've barely been able to take my eyes off of Sara, the way the candle light in the dining hall plays with the dark hues in her hair. The stunning outfit she chose that brings out the emerald hues in her eyes.

Leaning forward, this time I initiate the kiss, my tongue dueling with her own.

When we separate, we are both markedly out of breath.

"We shouldn't," Sara breathes out. "This…us…"

"I know," I tell her.

No sooner do I say it that both our mouths are again crashing together, our bodies quickly following suit.

Pressing her against a back wall, my hands firmly grip her hips, my leg coming to place itself between her own.

Breath hitching, Sara's mouth lowers from mine to make its way down my neck, her tongue tracing a path towards my collar bone.

"Jesus," I mutter, eyes closing at the sensation.

My hands grip her sides as my leg pushes deeper against her center.

Feeling her body react to my actions, we both duel for dominance, both desperate to explore and take in the body before us with our hands, our mouths, our anything.

Hearing a roar of applause erupting from the main room down the hall, Sara and I momentarily pause.

"We should probably head back," I whisper halfheartedly. "I think they might be doing the cake…"

"Probably," Sara mumbles, eyes meeting mine in the darkness.

Our pause is only momentary, both of us nearly immediately resuming our actions with renewed fervor.

Neither one of us caring about cake, about the complicated state of our relationship, about anything but the person we love who is finally within our reach.

* * *

><p>Smiling, I link my arm with Sara's, stepping out from the hall into the cool night air.<p>

Waving as various colleagues exchange our farewells, Sara separates from me, gesturing towards the doorway.

"I'll go back and grab our coats," she offers. "Meet you at the car?"

"Sure, thanks," I tell her, not able to stop the smile from coming to my face as our eyes meet.

Smiling herself, Sara nods, finally breaking our gazes to step back inside.

Letting out a contented breath, I pull out my key to the car.

Making my way towards the Tahoe, I can't wait to get out of these heels and curl up with Sara in our warm, comfortable bed the second we get home.

"Does it bother you?"

Startled, I clutch my hand to my chest as I turn to see an officer I vaguely recognize standing near the hood of our car.

"Excuse me?" I question, trying to place his name.

"You and her," he says, expression dark as he gestures back towards the hall. "Does it bother you?"

"Does what bother me?" I ask, quickly losing patience for this cryptic conversation.

"That someone else fucked her first."

Immediately, my boredom turns to discomfort, my eyes moving around to try to find someone else standing nearby.

My heartbeat increases its pace as I find we're one of the last ones still around.

"I'm leaving," I tell him sternly. "So please get the hell away from our car."

"It really doesn't bother you?" he questions, eyes glinting in the darkness.

"Get out of my way."

"Perhaps I need to be more specific," he offers.

Blocking the car door with his body, he narrows his eyes.

"Does it bother you that her father and her brother beat you to the promised land?"

He stands to his full height, eyes burning into my own.

"When you kiss her, do you think of them? When you bed her, do you think about how they fucked your lover before you did?"

Heart slowing to a near stop at his words, my mouth refuses to move, my brain refuses to form words.

"It's funny," he tells me darkly. "I had your guys' roles all wrong."

Shaking his head, he takes a threatening step forward.

"I always thought _you _were the whore."

Before I can stop myself, my hand connects solidly with his face, my palm stinging where it made contact with his cheek.

Turning back towards me, he smiles.

"Bad move."

My eyes are drawn to a shadow moving up beside me.

"Bad move, indeed," Sara grinds out lowly at him, hands clenched tightly into fists.

Insides sinking, I pray to God she didn't hear the words that were exchanged, the implications of those words.

But, all I have to do is take in the paleness to her skin, the shaking of her hands to know that she did.

To know that she heard everything this man said.

"Speak of the devil…" the officer states.

Reaching out, I place my hand against Sara's back, trying desperately to calm her down.

"Have to admit, Sidle," he says. "Always thought you were just some private nerdy chick. Never knew you were so notorious back in California. Household name, apparently. All those nice articles they wrote about you and your family and everything."

He takes a step closer.

"Don't worry," he whispers. "I put my favorite article up on the department news board so you can get all the notoriety and recognition you deserve here in Vegas, too."

"You bastard," I get out, keeping my grip on Sara firm while I simultaneously jam my finger into his chest. "You sick, fucking bastard…"

Grabbing my hand, he pushes me away harshly.

"You're the sick one," he starts. "You-"

He doesn't get any farther, his words cut off by Sara's hand clamping down tightly on his throat.

"Sara," I warn, trying to pull her back and away from him.

Lashing out, the officer takes a swing at Sara, and the moment he does the scene transforms from anxious tension to violent aggression.

My grip on Sara is completely lost, her body colliding harshly against his own, their limbs a blur of savage brutality that my mind can barely keep up with nor comprehend.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	32. Chapter 32

**AN: Thanks so much to those who reviewed - again, appreciation beyond words. **

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p><em>CHAPTER 32<em>

_"We must be willing to let go of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us."_

_-J. Campbell_

* * *

><p>SOFIA POV<p>

"What in God's name just happened," I demand, words forced from my tightly clenched teeth.

"You tell me!" Catherine counters, finger pointing angrily to the wall that currently separates her and Officer Colb. "That _asshole _is from _your _department."

"So what?" I question, my own voice much louder and higher pitched than I would like it.

I try hard to remain in control under any circumstances, but this one I will admit is pushing me to my limits.

"So maybe you should pay a bit more attention to what's going on around you, Curtis!" she suggests less than kindly.

Taking a breath, I shake my head, trying to steady my own thoughts, my own emotions, all of which are rushing through me at a million miles a second.

I keep seeing visions of what I walked in on tonight leaving Brass' gala event. Keep seeing Sara and Colb violently assaulting one another near the back of the parking lot, violence and aggression at levels I can barely fathom.

"I didn't know about that article, Catherine," I tell her, voice losing some of its edge as I think about the reason that brought us all to this moment, the reason we're both so on edge. "I had no idea it was up there."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, leaning back against the edge of my desk.

"I didn't know," I repeat quietly.

Losing some of her own anger, Catherine silently watches me for a moment before shaking her head.

"I know you didn't," she tells me, her own voice subdued.

Taking a breath, she points back towards the wall.

"What the hell is his deal, though," she questions. "I barely even recognized his name before tonight. Seems a pretty personal attack for someone who I didn't think even knew Sara that well."

"He doesn't know any of you that well," I tell her. "But to him all CSIs are the same."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning his partner was just discharged from the force following an investigation by Stokes."

"His partner was Pat Burk?" she asks with raised brows.

"Yes," I confirm. "Fired as of last week."

"So it's our fault that happened?" she questions darkly. "We're the ones who fired that bullet that killed an unarmed kid?"

Shaking her head, she advances slightly.

"We put the alcohol in his system that made him drunk off his ass when he showed up for duty that night?"

"Hey," I call, raising my hands. "You're barking at the wrong tree, Catherine."

Staring me down for a moment or two more, she finally shakes her head and backs off.

"So he's pissed at us for doing our job, and takes it out on Sara?"

"Convenient target," I tell her, hating the answer, truthful as it is. "He's pissed at the CSIs whose backs he and his partner have watched at countless crime scenes. CSIs who then turn around and kick his partner off the force without a second thought."

I shrug.

"He sees it as a betrayal of his brother in arms and takes advantage of an opportunity to fire back at one of your own."

"That's fucked up," she states. "Nick was doing his job. Cops like his partner deserve to be taken off the streets."

Clenching her fists, she advances.

"When is it going to stop being an us versus you thing?" she questions darkly. "When is it going to be about justice and truth – values _both_ our departments taut as our founding principles?"

"Again, wrong tree."

"This is bullshit," she gets out. "I want him gone. What he did was _beyond_ crossing a line."

"Brass is dealing with him," I tell her.

She nods slowly, only appeased because she knows Brass isn't going to take this situation lightly. Not when it comes to Sara.

"I need to talk to her," Catherine states, and she doesn't need to specify who she's referring to.

"You need to get yourself cleaned up," I tell her, pointing to her hands and the dried blood near her mouth.

Looking down, she takes in her hands, her expression dour as she silently watches her palms.

"It's hers," she says, voice barely above a whisper. "Most of this is hers."

Taking a steadying breath, I pull myself to my full height.

"I know," I tell her quietly. "I'll try to get her to get medical treatment, but you need to let me speak with her first. I need her statement before this goes any further."

She doesn't look at me, her eyes still fixed on her blood-stained hands.

* * *

><p>SOFIA POV<p>

Walking around the building to the back, I take a deep breath as two forms come into view.

Nodding at Seth, I give him permission to leave as I take his place alongside the brunette standing stiffly in the night.

"Is Catherine alright?" she asks darkly the moment we're alone, eyes focused near the back fence. "They won't let me see her."

"She's fine," I reassure her. "They need you two separate until they get everyone's statements about what happened."

Sara doesn't comment, back to the brick wall behind her.

"She's fine, Sara," I try again to reassure her.

"She better be."

Placing my own back against the wall, I stare out into the night with her for a bit, trying to organize my thoughts. Trying to figure out how in the world I'm supposed to handle this particular situation.

"Just ask," Sara's states, voice cutting through the silence.

Taking a breath, I steady myself.

"How'd it start?"

"He confronted Catherine in the parking lot. They had a verbal exchange."

"And then?"

"Then he shoved her away from him."

"And then?"

"And then you know the rest."

Again, images of the night flash through my mind. Fists, rage, blood, anger.

Watching her profile, I see the blood still trickling slowly from her temple, the arm cradled limply by her side.

"I didn't know, Sara," I tell her quietly, shaking my head in the darkness. "You have my word that I didn't know."

She doesn't comment, doesn't move, and part of me wonders if she even heard me.

"I know," she eventually gets out, dark eyes straight ahead.

"It's gone," I tell her. "Brass is dealing with Colb."

Finally breaking her frozen posture, Sara shakes her head.

"Doesn't matter," she says quietly. "He accomplished what he wanted."

"Sara…"

"Do you honestly want to stand there and pretend like taking down that article makes any difference?" she challenges.

Finally turning to face me, she fixes her gaze on mine, features dark.

"Do you honestly want to pretend like you don't already now know that my father used to rape and abuse us? That my brother raped me as well?"

Her gaze burns into my own.

"You want to pretend like the entire department isn't going to know I was fucked by my own father and brother come morning?"

"Sara," I try again, hating to see Sara like this. Hating that she's right.

"No," she counters, pushing herself away from the wall. "You don't have to say anything. What's done is done."

"It doesn't change anything," I tell her sternly. "You're still Sara, the same Sara I knew this morning. The same Sara I've worked with for years."

Sara turns her gaze back out towards the night. Shaking her head, she readjusts her stance.

"That's bullshit. I don't know who that Sara was, Sofia," she tells me. "But I can tell you I'm not her anymore. Haven't been for a very long time."

"Then find her," I tell her sternly. "Don't lose her to the actions of some bastard cop looking for a cheap shot at a CSI."

"She was lost before Colb," Sara counters. "She was lost back when her brother blew his brains out in her living room. She was lost when she found out her other brother was beating the shit out of his children. She was lost when her mother hung herself in her jail cell. She was lost when her father was stabbed to death in front of her…"

Shaking her head darkly, she takes a shaking step away from me.

"She's lost," she gets out, voice strained. "And I've been fighting like hell to make that okay, to make myself someone still good and kind and just."

Her eyes lift to mine, her expression dark and haunted, blood trickling from her face to the ground.

"I wanted to kill him tonight," she tells me in a whisper. "I honestly think I would have if you didn't pull him away."

"Sara," I counter. "People get angry, enraged. It doesn't make them bad people."

"I've been trying so hard all these years to be someone good," she repeats, as if she didn't hear me. "But I don't know how long I can keep doing this…it's too much…it's all just too fucking much…"

Stepping slightly closer to her, I don't dare try to touch her, but I angle my head so my eyes are meeting hers.

"It seems wrong to even say what I'm about to say," I tell her, working to keep my voice steady. "You've been through hell, and part of me wants to tell you to just let go and allow yourself to be angry."

I swallow, "But I've seen the amazing person that you are, the amazing things you're capable of. And I'd hate to lose that person, Sara."

I shake my head, trying to keep her eyes meeting mine.

"Please," I whisper. "It's shitty and selfish and unfair, but the world needs more people like the Sara Sidle that I know."

Her eyes search mine, and it takes everything within me not to reach out to her, not to try to physically hold and protect this person who I genuinely consider my friend. This person who is struggling and teetering on the edge of a darkness I can only attempt to fathom.

"Try," I get out quietly. "One day at a time. Don't let what he did erase how far you've come."

Sara and I continue to watch each other across the darkness, neither one of us saying anything. Both of us tense and barely holding ourselves together.

Hearing a noise off to our left, I finally look away and note a figure approaching.

Sending Sara one final look, I step slightly away from her, taking in the form as it comes further into view.

"Nancy," I greet, recognizing her as Catherine's sister I've met once before. "Nice to see you again."

"Same here," Nancy offers, sending me a slight nod as her eyes quickly shift towards Sara. "But I think we should stop meeting like this."

"Agreed," I tell her, watching her eyes move up and down the brunette.

"What happened?" she asks, stern eyes on Sara, but I get the impression the question was directed towards me. "I got a call from Jim."

"There was a fight that broke out with another officer," I state, keeping my answer brief and vague for now. Something tells me Nancy is going to find out all the details soon enough.

"Are you alright?" Nancy asks to Sara this time, expression tense.

"Please check on Catherine," Sara responds, her own eyes edgy.

"Jim said she was okay," Nancy states, gaze immediately shifting to mine for confirmation.

"Please," Sara interjects, drawing Nancy's attention back to her.

Looking Sara over, Nancy's eyes pause near her shoulder, expression darkening before they stop again near her hairline.

Finally nodding slowly, Nancy steps slightly back from the brunette.

Sending me a look, she steps towards the building.

"Don't you dare let her out of your sight," she demands sternly.

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

"One more," I tell her, not expecting and not getting a response.

Sara simply stares straight ahead, not moving as I place the last stitch near her eyebrow.

"Alright," I state, cutting the needle free. "I think that does it."

"Thanks," Sara offers, voice nearly getting lost in the night air.

Nodding, I place my first aid supplies back in their bag and set it along the porch railing.

"I mean it about that hand and your shoulder," I tell her, gesturing to her right arm. "You start to feel tingling or numbness and that means I didn't set things right. You need to let me know if that happens, Sara."

"Okay."

Watching her profile, I take a silent breath, trying to keep myself and my emotions steady.

Catherine filled me in at the station on what happened, and I have to say I'm having a damn hard time keeping my feelings at bay.

I always suspected there may have been abuse in Sara's household that extended beyond the physical kind. But, to learn the true extent of it, the nature of just what type of hell Sara lived through, I can barely keep myself together.

I'm enraged, I'm horrified, I'm heartbroken.

All that went on with Liam recently, I had no idea the true depths of what she was dealing with.

Of what both she and Catherine were dealing with.

Gathering my things, I turn to head back inside.

"I'm sorry."

Turning in confusion, I raise my brows.

"What?" I ask gently, wondering if I heard Sara right.

"I'm sorry," she repeats, gaze still ahead of her.

"For what?" I question in disbelief, not knowing what in the world Sara could possibly have to be sorry for.

"That you found out like this," she says, voice quiet.

Clearing her throat, she shakes her head.

"I wanted to tell you, Nancy," she offers. "So many times I thought about it, but it never seemed like the right moment."

"Sara," I start, shaking my head. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"You're my best friend," she counters, eyes dark. "And you find out like this."

"Stop," I tell her, taking a slight step closer to her.

"You weren't ready," I state seriously. "There's nothing wrong with that. The only thing wrong about the situation is what that officer did."

"I would have told you," she tells me, words genuine.

"I know," I answer her.

Reaching forward slowly, I gently turn her face towards mine.

"I'm going to tell you the same thing tonight that I would have told you whenever you shared this part of your past with me," I state, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's part of you, part of your history. But it's not you."

Leaning forward, I place a kiss into Sara's hair, careful to avoid her injuries.

"I love you," I tell her sincerely. "All of you. Nothing changes that."

Pulling back slightly, I match our gazes for a moment or two before stepping fully away.

"See you inside," I offer, opening the front door and leaving us both to the demons in our heads.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Watching my sister and Sara out on the porch, I step away, heading to the kitchen to do something, anything, to try to sort the thoughts in my head.

Reaching for the coffee grounds in the fridge, I barely react as my phone vibrates in my pocket.

Pulling it out, I don't even check the ID.

"Willows."

"Cath?" the caller questions. "It's Jim."

"Hey," I offer, only slightly more engaged.

"Look, sorry to bother you," he states, no doubt a bit thrown by my strange, empty tone. "I wanted you to know that he's gone."

"Officer Colb?" I question, raising a brow as I pour the grounds into the coffee maker. "Can you do that?"

"No, I can't," he admits. "But I can reassign him to the traffic and parking division so that he quits on his own accord. Which is exactly what happened."

"So he's really gone?"

"Yeah, he put in for a transfer immediately following our conversation. Already been approved. He's off to Memphis."

"That's great," I state, letting out a slow breath as I watch the water in the coffee maker start to steam up. "Thanks, Jim."

"Sure," he offers, sounding a bit uncertain. "I'll let you go. Take care of yourself, Catherine."

"I will," I respond, closing my phone and setting it numbly on the counter.

Hearing the front door open and close, I watch the dark coffee filter down into the pot as it brews.

"Hey," my sister offers, stepping into the kitchen.

"Hey."

Silence follows, only interrupted by the steaming and crackling of the coffeemaker.

"You alright?" Nancy finally breaks the silence, stepping slightly closer to me but still keeping ample space between us.

"Sure," I shrug, not taking my eyes off the trickling brown liquid in front of me.

"Cath," Nancy breathes out, shaking her head.

"What?" I bite back. "What the hell do you want me to say, Nancy?"

Turning on her, I shake my own head darkly.

"You want me to tell you that I want to track down Officer Colb and put a bullet between his eyes for what he did?" I nearly shout at her. "You want me to tell you that I saw firsthand how shitty the people in Sara's own fucking town treated her because of her past, and now I'm terrified Vegas will become the same?"

My hands are shaking as I point my finger angrily at her chest.

"That I'm terrified everything we've worked so hard to build here has just gone to shit?"

I clench my hands into fists.

"You want me to act like any of this is fucking _okay_?"

Without warning, I reach over, gabbing the still steaming coffee pot and hurl it across the room. Glass shatters against the wall, scalding coffee splattering across the floor, the cupboards, the sink.

"It's _not_ okay!" I yell, ignoring the burning in my hands as I clench them to my face. "I'm not okay, she's not okay, _none_ of this is okay!"

Feeling Nancy's arms grab me tightly, I struggle against her until my legs literally give out from under me.

"None of this…" I trail off, my words transforming into sobs as I let out one anguished cry after another into her chest.

"I got you," Nancy murmurs into my hair, holding me close as she lowers us both down to the kitchen floor. "I got you, Catherine…"

Holding to my sister tightly, I continue to scream, to sob, to try desperately to purge all this anger and rage currently swirling inside of me.

I know that if I don't surrender to it completely right here and now, don't acknowledge this devastation that I feel and allow myself to get lost in it, there very well soon may not be anything left worth finding.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	33. Chapter 33

**AN: Thank you all for your continued support, means a lot.**

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 33<p>

_"He fumbles at your spirit_

_As players at the keys_

_Before they drop full music on;_

_He stuns you by degrees_

_Prepares your brittle substance_

_For the ethereal blow,_

_By fainter hammers, further heard,_

_Then nearer, then so slow_

_Your breath has time to straighten,_

_Your brain to bubble cool, -_

_Deals one imperial thunderbolt_

_That scalps your naked soul."_

_-Emily Dickinson_

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"I'm sorry."

Raising a brow, Sara furrows her eyes.

"Why?"

"I obliterated our coffee pot."

A ghost of a smile plays at Sara's lips as her eyes roam over the floor we're currently sitting on, shards of glass and streaks of coffee scattered around us from our position against the cupboards.

"Yes you did."

I reach over, taking Sara's hand in mine. I'm not exactly sure when she replaced Nancy during my breakdown of sorts, but I'm beyond thrilled to find her by my side.

It's been a long night to say the least, and we've been separated for most of it, and not by choice.

"You want to talk about it?" she asks me quietly.

"I think you, not to mention most of our neighbors, already heard what I had to say," I tell her honestly.

Nodding slowly, Sara tightens her grip slightly on my hand.

She remains quiet, and I can't help but wonder what's going through her head. I know she likely wants to apologize for the situation, but knows I won't let her. Knows I will only immediately correct her and tell her none of this is her fault.

Not my breakdown, not Colb's actions, not the cut on my lip from a stray elbow I caught while trying to break them apart.

One look at her expression, though, tells me she's already traveling that dark road in her mind.

"Did Nancy leave?" I ask.

"Went out for some air."

Nodding, I take a couple deep breaths, still trying to steady myself from all the emotions that literally ripped through me minutes before.

"How's your arm?" I ask her, trying to get her eyes to meet mine.

"It's alright," she answers, tone distracted.

Closing my eyes briefly, I lace my fingers through hers.

"Sara," I gently call after a moment, tugging slightly on her good hand.

Eyes finally shifting to mine, Sara seems to shake herself from her thoughts.

"Sorry," she offers quietly.

"Want to talk about it?" I offer, repeating her own words back to her.

So far tonight I feel like I've been dancing along a thin line between wanting to force her to talk to me and trying to give her space.

At the station, she immediately questioned me as to whether I was alright the moment we were allowed to see each other. But, following that, she's barely said a word. She was quiet the whole way home, only once breaking her silence to apologize to Nancy for getting blood on her car's interior.

I'm desperate to get her to open up, to get even the vaguest insight into what she's thinking or feeling right now, but I fear the risk it poses of causing her to pull away.

"I don't know what to say," she eventually gets out, eyes focused on a jagged shard of glass near her right foot. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"Sara," I state softly, "There's nothing you're _supposed_ to do. There's no rule book or instruction manual for something like this."

She doesn't comment, eyes still focused ahead of her, body tense under my fingers.

"There are things, though," I offer quietly, "that I hope you _don't_ do."

Again, I'm met with silence, but the tight set to her jaw lets me know she heard me, that she's listening.

"I hope you don't pull away from me," I tell her. "I hope you don't pull away from Nancy. I hope you don't continue to try to go through all of this alone."

She swallows tightly, her eyes unreadable as they remain fixed on the glass surrounding us.

Minutes of tense silence pass, neither one of us speaking, neither one of us moving.

Hearing footsteps fall along the porch, I close my eyes briefly before opening them again.

"We should clean this up," Sara says, voice quiet, strained.

Taking a breath, I nod, watching her profile.

"Yes we should."

Sara helps me to my feet. Before she can turn away, I take hold of her by the hip and turn her to face me.

"I love you," I tell her in a whisper, my voice not strong enough for anything more.

Sara forces her eyes to meet my own, her gaze guarded and unreadable as she nods slowly.

"I love you, too," she replies.

Hearing the front door open, she swallows tightly, her eyes glancing one last time at mine before she pulls away, stepping out of reach.

* * *

><p><em>3:41am<em>.

Glimpsing at the clock, I rub my forehead, letting my hand rest in my hair as I stare up at the ceiling.

As I watch the shadows dance across the surface, a long breath escapes from my lips.

My fingers tighten around the bed sheet gathered at my waist as I turn my head to look back over at the other side of the mattress.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Sara's body is no longer lying next to mine. When we went to bed this evening, she put up a gallant effort of trying to appear asleep, even if she wasn't quite convincing enough to have me fooled. As I watched her in the darkness, however, my own exhaustion finally won out and forced me into my own, actual sleep.

Now, finding myself laying here alone, I remind myself that I shouldn't be surprised.

After the events of the last day, not to mention the last month or year, I have a feeling the brunette's mind is anything but quiet when she lays her head down on her pillow at night.

Glancing over at the clock, I shake my head.

_3:43_

Listening to the night around me, the rest of the house is completely silent. No lights flicker under our bedroom door to suggest she is up watching tv.

Deciding that my own mind is much too cluttered for any peaceful slumber either, I swing my feet over the side of the bed.

Cold floorboards meet my bare skin, back cracking as I stand and adjust my nightshirt.

Walking quietly to our door, I step out into the rest of the house.

The living room is empty, my eyes scanning the empty kitchen as well before I make my way to the front door. Shifting the curtain beside the door, I glance out the window, eyes scanning the dark porch for any sign of Sara.

Again, nothing.

I check the driveway, noting her Tahoe still parked next to mine.

Next, I check the counter.

Moonlight glints off the silver of her house keys, the items letting me know she didn't go for a run. Sara wouldn't leave without her keys, wouldn't leave the house unlocked in her absence.

Furrowing my brows, my eyes come to rest on the last place to check.

Slowly approaching the back door, I stay in the shadows and peer out into the night.

Catching a hint of movement, I spot Mesa first, his body lying near the bottom of the back porch steps, head resting on his paws. Sitting next to him, body situated along the second step is Sara, her head angled away and out towards the night beyond our property.

I have my hand outstretched and ready to open the door to join her when the moonlight catches on something in Sara's hand.

Narrowing my eyes, I strain to see through the glass.

My breath hitches when I realize what it is she's holding.

No more than a moment later, Sara lifts the bottle awkwardly with her uninjured, left arm towards her mouth.

Taking a long drink of something that appears to be much stronger than beer or wine, she rests the bottle back in her lap, her gaze not moving from the night beyond.

Swallowing, I shake my head, debating my next move.

Sara has been so good these past weeks, completely cutting out alcohol from her life in an attempt at a new start after her relapse into drug use.

Seeing her now, drinking alone at three in the morning, I worry for her state of mind.

Alternately, though, I've been worried about her state of mind for a lot of other reasons. And perhaps, as I watch her lean her head back against the porch rail and shut her eyes, this is the only way she can find some semblance of peace right now. The only way she can escape from the hell that has become her reality as of late.

"But this isn't the answer, honey," I whisper, my nearly voiceless words sending thin plumes of steam against the glass.

Resting my head against the glass, I decide, for tonight, to only watch her.

To watch over the woman who has always been there watching over me.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Sipping on my coffee, I try to keep my eyes focused on the sheriff. Something tells me though, judging by the faces around me that range from blank to openly bored, that I'm not the only one having a hard time focusing at this particular morning briefing.

Glancing over at Sara for what has to be the twentieth time, her expression remains neutral as she watches the sheriff from her place against the counter across the room from me.

I note that a couple other people are curiously glancing over at the brunette from time to time, their eyes moving from the deep gash along her temple to the hints of bruising traveling down her cheekbone.

Inwardly, I sigh, knowing their eyes can't even see the worst of Sara's injuries. She's wearing a black sweater, the sleeves pulled low so that only the hint of a bandage can be seen covering her right hand. Her arm is held casually at her side, and I have no doubt most of the onlookers would never suspect her shoulder was dislocated or that she has multiple broken bones in her hand.

And, that's not even addressing the other injuries I know for a fact lay unseen beneath her clothing.

Swallowing another sip of coffee, the warm liquid burns against the gash in my lip that has earned its own quota of stares this morning.

Eyes shifting back towards the sheriff, my gaze stops at one particular individual assessing Sara with an expression quite different than the others. The expression is dark, concerned instead of curious.

No doubt feeling my eyes on her, Sofia shifts her gaze from Sara to me.

Our eyes meet across the room, neither one of us needing to do more than that. The silent communication shared in this moment is more than enough.

Shoulders rising in a silent breath, Sofia offers me a supportive nod, her eyes moving back to Sara briefly before focusing on the sheriff.

"How are you?"

Startled by the whispered words spoken near my shoulder, my gaze shifts to Brass, standing slightly behind me.

"Been better," I respond, the drone of the sheriff's report blocking our words from the rest of the gathered crowd.

"How is she?"

Images from last night, Sara drinking alone in the darkness replay through my mind. The bottle of what I later determined to be vodka clenched tightly in her hand, the liquid consumed slowly but steadily by a person appearing desperate to forget, to escape.

The same person who I watched refill the empty bottle with water and replace it back in the liquor cabinet before all but collapsing onto the couch. The same person who greeted me this morning as if nothing had happened, as if nothing was different or the least bit wrong.

"Been better," I eventually settle on, my eyes trying to communicate to him things my words cannot.

I don't know if it's some attempt at loyalty or protection, but I can't find the ability to tell Brass anything more right now.

Nodding, his eyes hold understanding and acknowledgement of the fact that there's more that I'm not saying, expression letting me know he'll still be there when I'm ready.

Reaching over, I squeeze his hand tightly before turning my attention back to the meeting, to the sheriff who is listing off fiscal and departmental concerns that are nowhere near the caliber of my own.

* * *

><p>"Twenty two," Sara answers Nick's question, eyes roaming over the picture before passing it across the table to him.<p>

"Seriously?" he questions in disbelief. "That's crazy."

"Apparently not when you're using a semi-automatic."

Nick nods slowly, wide eyes taking in the scene in the photo.

"Crazy," he mutters again in wonder.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he gestures to the remainder of the evidence spread out on the table before us.

"And there was no blood, no transfer, on any of this?"

"None," I confirm, glancing over the report in my hands. "Negative for blood, GSR."

"Crazy," he adds for the third time.

Smiling slightly, Sara shakes her head.

"Crazy or not, we have a killer with a homemade machine gun and absolutely no trace evidence to go off of."

"What about the victim?" I question, not finding the autopsy report in my file. "How many bullet wounds?"

"Two," Nick answers, glancing at his own report.

"That's it?" I ask, raising a brow. "Twenty two in the wall, and only two in him?"

"Only takes one," Sara shrugs.

Smirking, I send her a look.

"Yes, thanks."

"Sure," she offers, a slight smile playing at her lips.

"I don't know," Nick sighs, bringing our gazes back to him. "I think the scene deserves a second visit."

"Agreed," I tell him. "Take Greg, Sara's on desk duty for awhile."

Ignoring the less-than-pleased glance she sends my way, Nick smiles at her expression.

"Cheer up," he tells her. "I'll bring you back tons of likely useless prints and carpet fibers to keep you occupied."

"Oh, be still my beating heart," Sara mutters, rolling her eyes.

Nick winks at her, giving me a smile as he makes his way out of the room.

Sara shakes her head, letting out a breath once he's out of sight, her eyes focused on the doorway he disappeared through.

"You okay?" I ask her when she doesn't break her silence for a few minutes, eyes still looking at the spot he disappeared from.

Somehow I sense there's more to this moment than meets the eye.

"Yeah," she says, pulled from her thoughts as she moves to gather up the evidence splayed around us with her good arm.

Reaching over, I still her motions.

"You okay?" I ask her again, tone gentle but deliberate.

Searching my expression, Sara eventually swallows, gaze shifting down towards the vic's clothing.

"It's like nothing happened," she gets out. "With Nick."

Nodding slowly in understanding, I remove my grip on her.

"You expected him to treat you differently now that he knows what was in that article?" I ask.

She watches the evidence, expression hard to read.

"I guess," she shrugs. "I don't know, I just expected it to feel different between me and the others after…everything."

She shrugs again, eyes glancing back up towards mine.

"He's acting like it didn't change anything."

I nod, matching her gaze.

"Maybe it didn't," I tell her honestly.

She takes in my words, her eyes filled with thoughts that I could only guess at.

"Maybe."

* * *

><p>Stepping into my office near the end of the day, I nearly drop the paperwork in my hands when I notice someone sitting in my chair.<p>

"Jesus," I mutter, placing my hand over my chest.

"Sorry," Sofia offers, standing and moving around the mahogany desk towards the bookshelf instead.

"What can I do for you?" I ask curiously, able to count the number of times Sofia's been to my office on one hand.

My eyebrows only raise further when she reaches over and shuts the door.

"This came in the department mail today."

Reaching over, she hands me an envelope.

I note the address, and the fact that it's open.

"Sometimes I open the mail when the sheriff or Brass are out on scenes," she shrugs in explanation.

"Okay," I tell her with a raised brow.

Taking a breath, I reach inside, trying to keep my heart rate steady. Nothing good has seemed to come from these sorts of envelopes lately for me.

Pulling out the papers, I note the seal of the state of Nevada placed in the corner, the official letterhead of the state attorney's office.

Glancing over the words, my earlier concern regarding my heart rate is all but forgotten as the organ nearly stutters to a stop in my chest.

"How…," I get out, looking up at Sofia numbly. "What?"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Sofia shakes her head darkly.

"They're requesting a new trial," she supplies for me, reiterating the words I just read. "Claiming bias."

"This…" I take a deep breath. "This was a rapist she took _three_ years to put behind bars."

Clenching my teeth, I try to keep from crushing the papers in my tightly clenched hands.

"He raped _fourteen_ women, Sofia." My voice is nearly shaking with rage. "They can't do this."

"They can," she whispers. "The bastards can use what they've recently learned to argue against the mindset of the lead CSI. Claim that she was biased against their client due to her personal background."

"It's bullshit," I grind out. "No one even knew about that part of Sara's past, not even _me_ for Christ's sake, because she was so damn good at _not_ letting it impact her job, her actions."

"It's grounds for appeal," Sofia gets out, her own expression dour, furious. "And they can potentially win."

Standing there almost numbly, I push the papers back towards her, not wanting to even touch the offending items.

"Does she know?" I get out.

"No," Sofia shakes her head, taking the papers from my hands. "She'll be notified next. Probably later today or tomorrow."

I close my eyes, the world literally tipping off its axis around me.

"Catherine," Sofia states, voice tight and pained.

Forcing my eyes open, she waits until my gaze is on hers.

"This letter isn't the only one."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	34. Chapter 34

**AN: Sorry for the delay. Hope everyone is doing well. Thanks again to the reviewers – this is for you.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 34<p>

_"It requires more courage to suffer than to die." _

_-Napoleon I _

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Stepping up next to me, Sara's silent, resting her arms along the porch railing and looking out towards the setting sun.

We remain this way for quite awhile, neither one of us finding it within ourselves to break the quiet of the evening. All during dinner we exchanged few words, both of us lost in thoughts not ready to be shared.

Angling her body slightly towards me, I feel Sara's eyes look me over, feel her gaze assessing me.

Eventually, she reaches over with her left hand, giving my shoulder a squeeze.

"I'm here if you need me," she tells me quietly, not prying, simply supporting.

Turning to head back inside, I reach out and grab her hand before she's out of reach, the action causing her to stop and face me.

"I need to share something with you…but I don't know how to say it…" I trail off in defeat, barely able to meet her eyes.

Her eyes which hold so much gentle concern, so much kindness.

How can I bring yet another dark turn of events into this person's life? Hasn't she already been through enough?

"What happened?" Sara questions, her voice heavy with worry.

My heart clenches, knowing it's not me she needs to be worried about. That the truth I have to share is a sharp knife aimed in her direction, not mine.

"Sara, I…"

Again, I trail off, not knowing how in the world I'm supposed to do this.

"Catherine," she calls softly, lacing her fingers through mine. "Just tell me."

Taking a slow breath in, I steady myself. She deserves an answer, and she deserves a strong, steady person to stand by her and give her that answer.

"They're appealing some of your cases," I confess, forcing my voice to remain strong.

Eyes watching mine, Sara remains still, her mind no doubt taking in the words her ears just heard.

"Okay," she eventually gets out, voice strained but steady.

Keeping my grip on her hand firm, I watch her continue to try to process what she's been told.

"How many?" she whispers.

"Eleven so far."

Swallowing, Sara nods, working desperately to remain neutral.

"Rape cases?"

"Yes," I answer honestly. "A few parental abuse, but mostly rapes."

Nodding slowly, Sara's eyes finally lose their inner battle and look away from my own.

When she tries to pull her hand back, I tighten my hold.

"Stop," I tell her, shaking my head and reaching out to grip her belt with my other hand. "Don't do this."

"Do what?" she questions, swallowing tightly as I feel her breaths speed up beneath my fingers.

"Pull away from me," I answer. "Keep putting up walls."

Eyes flashing back to mine, Sara shakes her head tensely.

"What do you want me to do then, Catherine?" she questions.

When I don't answer, she renews her efforts to separate herself from me.

Trying to use her only free hand, I watch her clench her teeth as she attempts to pull my hand from her hip with her own injured one.

"Stop," I demand again, hating to see her hurt herself. "Stop, Sara."

"Let go," she warns, her tone dark.

"Stop doing this," I plead. "You can't keep shutting everyone out, pretending like you're fine."

"Please let go of me," she tries again, jaw clenched tightly.

"You can't keep turning to drugs and alcohol instead of the people in your life that care about you," I tell her sternly. "Can't keep-"

Before I can finish, Sara pushes against me harshly, wrenching her body free of my grasp.

Stumbling back, she grabs the porch rail to steady herself, body shaky.

"Sara," I whisper sadly, shaking my head but not making a move towards her. "Please let me help you."

"I'm fine," she counters. "I'm not the one who needs help."

"Sara…"

"No," she forces out. "Help the ones who need it."

Swallowing, she clenches her jaw.

"Help all those victims, Catherine, all those families who're going to watch their rapists and abusers go free."

She fixes me with a gaze so dark that I barely recognize the warm and gentle woman that I know her to be.

"Help all the women who're going to become their future victims."

Her features are pallid, stark.

"Help _them_, Catherine."

Closing my eyes briefly, I try to control my breathing, try to remain steady.

"I almost chose not to be a CSI because of this," she admits darkly, words reaching my ears. "I wasn't an idiot, I _knew_ this could happen if I went into this career with a past like mine. But I was fucking selfish enough to do it anyway, and now, all those innocent people are going to have to pay the price."

When I open them again, I step towards Sara, reaching out for her.

"Honey, t-"

My words are cut short when she jerks away from me.

"Don't."

Eyes wide at her reaction, I put my hands up in a position of surrender, heart hammering in my chest as I find myself beyond anxious or concerned.

Seeing my expression, Sara swallows, a trembling hand raising to rub her temples.

"I'm sorry," she gets out, dark eyes trying to find the will to stay on mine.

Shaking her head, she backs away from me, reaching into her pocket.

"I need to go," she whispers into the night, pulling out her keys. "I can't be here right now…like this."

Eyes shifting, she turns to make her way down the steps towards her car.

"Sara, please," I nearly beg, words reaching her through the still night air.

"I'm sorry."

Without another word, she enters into her car, taillights soon disappearing into the distance.

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

"Slow down," I call into the phone, already understanding enough of what Catherine's trying to tell me to grab my keys and half run towards my car.

"God only knows where she is, what she's doing to herself…"

"Catherine," I call, turning on the engine and tossing my work bag in the back as I pull out of the hospital parking lot. "What aren't you telling me?"

There's a pause, and I know my hunch was correct. Catherine called me in a panic, explaining what happened at work and, more troubling, what happened when she told Sara about it.

But, under her words was a distinct current of fear that extended beyond concern.

"She's drinking again," she breathes out into the phone, the confession not what I was expecting to hear.

Certainly not what I was hoping to hear.

"What kind of drinking?"

"The kind where I found her downing a whole bottle of vodka by herself at three in the morning," she tells me. "The kind where she hid the bottle back in the cupboard when she was done."

"Shit," I mutter, trying to pay attention to traffic as I weave my Civic from one lane to the next.

"Nancy," she all but whispers into the phone. "She has her gun."

My heart slams in my chest.

"It'll be okay," I promise, hoping in the end it doesn't prove to be an empty one. "It'll be okay."

* * *

><p>Tires kicking up dust, I skid to a stop, inwardly rejoicing that I finally found Sara's car. Inwardly cursing that it took me two hours to do so.<p>

Jumping out of the driver's seat, I glance around me, squinting into the darkness to try to figure out which way Sara would've gone.

Deciding to head towards the ravine we've previously sat at, I take off at a jog.

Once I get closer, the sound of glass breaking draws my gait to a walk.

Soon, Sara comes into view, the scene illuminated by the light of a nearly full moon.

And, what I see, draws me from a walk to a full stop.

Standing there along the edge, Sara is motionless, a nearly full bottle of alcohol in her right hand.

What has my attention, though, is her service weapon held tightly in her left.

Taking a couple steadying breaths, I swallow the panic the site stirs up from within me.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I send a text to Catherine, letting her know where we are and kindly suggesting that she get here as quickly as she can.

Sending up a silent prayer to anyone listening, I take a cautious step forward, noting how close Sara's standing to the edge.

"Sara?" I call out gently.

Immediately, Sara whirls around, gun pointed directly between my eyes.

Hands raising, I stay where I'm at.

"Sara," I try again, noticing the slight sway to her stance, knowing I need to get her away from the edge before she loses her footing.

Seeming to realize who I am, Sara's brows furrow slightly, but she promptly lowers her gun back to her side.

"You shouldn't be here," she tells me, voice hoarse and rough.

Or, at least that's what I think she said, her words not only strained, but heavily slurred.

"Neither should you," I tell her.

Stepping slightly closer, Sara matches me and moves further back.

"Christ," I get out. "Stay put, Sara. You're inches from the edge."

"Don't do this," she warns. "I'm here to be alone."

"Yeah?" I question. "To do what, exactly?"

Chancing a small step closer, Sara's gun is instantly drawn back up to my face.

"I mean it, Nancy."

Holding my hands up for the second time tonight, I take a breath, knowing deep down that Sara would never hurt me, but hating to have a loaded gun pointed at my head all the same.

Especially when the person holding the gun is more than a few sheets to the wind.

Our silent standoff continues until Sara eventually lowers her weapon. Eyes remaining fixed on me, she raises the bottle to her mouth, amber liquid nearly gone by the time she lowers it back down.

Glancing behind her, I note multiple bottles shattered along the ground, giving me confirmation that this isn't anywhere near Sara's first for the night.

"What are you doing here, Sara?" I ask her quietly, eyes trying to adjust to seeing my best friend in such a state of darkness.

The fact that she's here, the fact that she's drinking, the fact that she's standing at the edge of a ravine with a loaded gun.

Shaking her head, Sara lets out a breath before finishing the rest of the alcohol.

"I need you to go home," she tells me, her voice almost saddened in its tone. "You can't be here for this."

"For what?" I ask sternly, both terrified and desperate for her to say the words aloud.

Words I think somewhere deep down she needs to admit to, but words that I dread hearing this friend that I love say.

"Go be with Catherine," she tells me, swallowing tightly, her eyes finally leaving mine. "She's going to need you."

"I'm not leaving you," I tell her, shaking my head firmly. "Not like this."

Chancing a step closer, I move within a couple meters of her before stopping, not trying to push my luck.

"I'm not leaving," I repeat to her. "I love you, Sara, and I-"

Immediately, her dark gaze shifts back up to mine.

"Don't."

"What?" I question. "Don't tell you I lov-"

"Don't!" she gets out. "Stop saying that shit to me!"

I shake my head, my heart breaking for the brunette trying so desperately to push everyone in her life away from her.

Trying to distance herself from the love and respect she still deep inside feels she doesn't deserve.

"It's the truth," I tell her simply, refusing to back down.

Sara clenches her jaw, grip tightening on her gun.

"We're not family, Nancy," she says darkly. "Stop acting like I'm some honorary Willows or Flynn."

Her eyes are smoldering as they remain fixed on mine.

"I'm a Sidle."

My heart clenches at her words, at the struggle she is obviously fighting with herself, a struggle I think she's been fighting ever since she was a child, and now again with everything that happened with Liam.

"Yes you are," I agree. "You're _Sara_ Sidle, the woman that my sister loves more than anything on this planet. The woman who saved my life. The woman who I consider my best friend. The woman-"

My words are cut off by the sound of glass shattering as Sara angrily heaves the bottle against a rock behind her.

"Fuck you, Nancy," she gets out, words slurring almost to the point where I can't understand them.

Her stance wavers as she turns back around to face me.

Cringing, I note the awkward way she's holding her right arm.

"I don't n-"

Her words are cut off as her eyes start to lose their focus, her body swaying dangerously.

Moving cautiously but purposefully towards her, I get myself within reach of her immediately.

"Back off, N-" she tries to get out, her words again cut short as she clenches her eyes shut in what almost appears to be pain.

Not missing the opportunity, I step forward and encircle her tightly in my arms.

Feeling her initial struggles against me, I work to keep us both out of the trajectory of her gun.

Soon enough, Sara's struggles weaken, her body growing limp in my arms.

"I…never wan…wanted…"

"Shh," I whisper into her hair, holding her firmly against me as her legs completely give out. "Relax, sweetheart."

Sara's breaths grow ragged, her body slowly succumbing to the alcohol coursing through her system.

"Relax, Sar."

Watching her eyes all but roll back, I hold her firmly until I'm sure she's lost consciousness.

Not wasting a moment, I pull us away from the edge, placing more than ample distance between it and ourselves.

Reaching a flat spot void of rocks and glass, I lower us both down to the desert sand.

Eyes glancing up as headlights cut across the scene, I have just enough time to pull Sara's weapon from her hand before my sister approaches us at a near run, eyes desperately trying to make sense of the sight before her.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Running my fingers softly through dark locks, I watch the pale oranges of the rising sun as it continues its journey towards the edge of the mountains.

The blanket covering our bodies lifts and falls gently, its edges caught by the crisp morning breeze.

Hearing a groan, I smile lightly as I swear I've never heard a more beautiful sound in my life.

Shifting in my arms, Sara's features furrow as she struggles to open her eyes against the early morning light.

Finding her surroundings unfamiliar and her movements restricted, her struggles become stronger.

"You're alright, Sara," I whisper to her, watching her actions pause at the unexpected sound of my voice so near.

"Cath?" she questions, voice rough from sleep, alcohol, or some combination of both.

Angling her head, she tries to get a better look at me.

"I'm here," I tell her, gently guiding her head back down to its former place on my shoulder.

Wrapping my arms back around her waist, I resume my former position of holding her tightly against my body.

I don't know why, but I can't bear the thought of letting her go.

Not now, not after last night.

It takes a few minutes, but the tension in Sara's body slowly lessens somewhat, head angling out towards the mountains.

"What happened?" she asks quietly after a moment.

"You don't remember?" I ask her.

Although, judging by the number of bottles it looks like Sara ingested, I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't even remember her own name right now.

"Some."

I don't ask her which parts the 'some' includes. Whether it includes the part about her taking her loaded service weapon up here to do things that I can't bear to even think about.

"You got drunk," I settle on saying for right now.

Sara nods slowly, then thinks better of the action as her features pale and her eyes squint.

Neither one of us speaks, and I'm honestly not sure either one of us breathes.

"I couldn't do it."

Sara's whisper breaks through the morning air, my body stiffening at the words, at the reference that is ever so thinly veiled. At the answer to whether she remembers what she apparently came here to do.

"But you considered it."

"Yes."

"And not for the first time."

She pauses a moment this time before answering.

"Yes."

Nodding slowly, my eyes stare numbly out at the sky, the moisture falling soundlessly from my lashes.

"The promise you made with Liam…" I stop, needing a moment to take a breath, to steady my words. "With your brothers…it…included this."

Again, another pause, another silence that is filled by the thundering of my heart.

"Yes."

Closing my eyes, I clench my teeth together, trying to bite down on my emotions, my reaction to her confession.

Feeling my tension, Sara shifts in my arms, pulling herself upright with her good arm.

Putting some space between us, she remains silent as I sit up as well.

"You made a suicide pact."

I need to hear the words aloud, need to stop speaking in veiled references. Need to stop dancing around the issue that demands addressing, and addressing head on.

"Yes."

I nod slowly, wondering why this never occurred to me before. Sara had two brothers, both of whom died essentially at their own hands. She'd already told me about their agreement to go through life in solitude, to not enter into relationships lest they carry on their parent's legacy.

What better way to end their family's legacy than end their family all together?

"It was supposed to end with me. All our negative impacts on this world…they were supposed to end with me."

My brows furrow at her words, the words that partially mirror my own thoughts, but seem to have a glaring hole.

"But Parker had a wife, children."

Whether or not they changed their name back from Sidle, those children would continue the family.

"Operative word being had," Sara says quietly, voice interrupting my thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

Sara shrugs.

"I got notified a couple years back about acquiring part of his estate," she says. "The letter stated that all his heirs were deceased. Thus making Liam and I the only ones left."

Her head shifts to the side, watching nature waking up around us, her tense posture betraying the nonchalant attitude she's trying to portray discussing this particular topic.

"What happened?" I ask, knowing Sara would have looked into it, would never be satisfied with the vague information in the letter.

"Thirteen car pileup on an interstate."

I take a breath, adjusting to the new information, to the implications of the new information.

"I'm sorry," I tell her honestly.

"I didn't know them."

I nod slowly, deciding to let her answer go. I know Sara is more affected by the topic than she's willing to admit, but now isn't the time.

"So it's just you?" I confirm. "When you die the Sidle line ends?"

"Yes."

I readjust my position on the ground, sitting back and studying the woman sitting with me. The woman who I feel I know so intimately, yet hardly at all.

"So you tried to make that happen last night? After what I told you about the cases, you decided to end it once and for all?"

Her eyes narrow slightly, but they still don't meet mine.

"Sara," I get out. "Let's not dance around this. Your fucking loaded gun is sitting five feet away in the car."

She is silent for a few moments before swallowing and steeling herself.

"You already know the answer, Catherine."

Raising a brow, I swallow as well, my eyes also having a hard time remaining on her, but for entirely different reasons.

"What stopped you?" I question. "Or did you just pass out before you could finish the job?"

My voice sounds cold, I know it does, but I can't help but let the anger, the fear, the myriad of other emotions I've been fighting to keep at bay start to creep back in. There's only so much I can hold back and only so long I can do so.

"I couldn't…_won't_…do that to you, Catherine," she shakes her head, tormented eyes finally fixing on mine. "Never."

The remaining tears trapped behind my eyes escape, my body nearly crumbling beneath me. The anger quickly giving way to devastation, to the deep sadness the events of tonight have wrought within me.

"Then why?" I get out, voice breaking. "Why this, Sara? Why the hell…"

"I thought I could," she admits, her own voice near breaking. "But when it came time to pull the trigger...I couldn't do it...couldn't do that to you."

"But do you _want_ to?" I counter, hands shaking as I wipe at the tears near my eyes. I need to see her for this, need to see her clearly as she answers. "Is a feeling of obligation to me the only thing keeping you here? Because if it is…"

"No," she cuts me off, allowing me to search her eyes.

She's quiet, her good hand opening and closing into a tense fist, the weight of the emotions pulling at her clear to read.

"I kept seeing us, Cath," she confesses, jaw clenching as she fights against the moisture in her own eyes. "Gun to my temple, and all I kept seeing was the life we had together."

She looks away, hand shaking as she runs it through her hair.

When her gaze returns to mine again, her eyes stay on my own, jaw tight.

"I kept seeing the life I want to try to have again with you."

She studies me, body still as the wind gently plays with wisps of her dark hair.

"The life where we're old as dirt, sitting together on the porch of our nursing home bickering about misplacing our false teeth." Her head bows, letting out a breath. "The life where we can barely walk, decrepit and old, but so damn happy because we've been blessed with the years needed to _become_ old, all of which we've spent _together_."

Closing my own eyes, I don't even bother to wipe the moisture from my face when they reopen.

Reaching over, I gently lift Sara's face, hand not leaving her jaw.

"I've always wanted that life with you," I tell her honestly, voice a whisper. "That ending with you."

Swallowing, I shake my head.

"So you can't do this type of shit to me, sweetheart. When you came up here with your gun…when I saw you lying lifeless in my sister's arms when I finally got to you…I thought…"

"I'm sorry," Sara whispers, fighting hard to keep her eyes on mine. "It doesn't come close to covering something like this, but I'm sorry."

"I know you are," I tell her, eyes softening even as my grip on her jaw remains firm. "But honey, this isn't something we can just ignore."

She stiffens slightly, and her eyes tell me she knows exactly where this is headed.

"You've tried so hard and so long to handle all of this yourself, to fight against all this internally while convincing everyone on the outside you're doing just fine when you're not."

I watch her eyes shift, her body begin to tremble beneath my fingers.

"You're not fine, Sara," I whisper.

She doesn't say anything, her eyes focusing beyond my shoulder, her body tense, eyes tortured.

"Babe," I call to her, reaching up to hold her face with both my hands. "You're not fine, and it's _okay_."

"You've spent so much of your life holding everyone around you together," I tell her. "Supporting them, caring for them, protecting them. For once you need to focus on yourself."

Leaning forward, I place a gentle kiss into her soft hair, placing my lips near her ear.

"For once, you need to let _me_ take care of _you_."

At first my whispered request goes unanswered, but, finally, I start to feel her body shift beneath my fingers.

Pulling back slightly, I run my thumb across her cheek, tilting her head up as I do so.

Eyes finally meeting mine, Sara swallows, body still trembling beneath my touch.

"I'm losing myself," she admits, looking away as a lone tear escapes to trace a path down her cheek. "It's so dark…inside…and I keep trying to fight it…"

She turns away, swallowing against the emotion threatening to choke her.

Against the darkness and torment stirring deep inside her.

I watch her inner struggle, a battle with herself and her demons that she's been fighting on some level all the time I've known her.

"I need help."

Eyes shutting at her confession, I let out a long breath, my heart feeling about a thousand times lighter when I reopen them.

Reaching forward, I close the distance between us, turning her face towards me and gently forward until my lips meet with her own.

When I pull back, her eyes search mine, traveling from my gaze to the smile pulling at my lips.

"Cath?" she questions, brows furrowed.

"The strongest person I've ever met," I tell her, my tearful smile expanding, "Just showed me she's a hell of a lot stronger than I even imagined."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading. There may be the potential for some hope and happiness in this story afterall...*shrug*...guess we'll see...<strong>


	35. Chapter 35

**AN: Thanks as always to those who took the time to review, it really means a lot. Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 35<p>

"_To reach a port we must set sail –  
>Sail, not tie at anchor<br>Sail, not drift."  
><em>

― _Franklin D. Roosevelt_

* * *

><p>JIM BRASS POV<p>

"Knock knock."

Looking up from my paperwork, my face extends to a wide smile when I see who it is standing in my doorway.

"Sara!" I greet cheerfully at the unexpected surprise, pushing my file aside as I gesture to the empty seat in front of my desk. "Come in."

She sits, hands running down the legs of her jeans nervously, eyes studying my bookshelf.

"What're you doing here?" I question, trying not to be overt in my assessment of her. "Thought you had the day off? Catherine said something about a day trip with her and Nancy…?"

"Got back early."

I nod slowly, though all it takes is one look at her to know her response, the explanation for the day off, all of it, is a cover.

And, taking in her pale features, the dark circles under troubled eyes, it's a cover for something much more sinister that had her and Catherine away from work today.

"Yeah? Well, I hope you had a good time," I state, deciding to go along with the ruse for now. "What can I do for you?"

Swallowing, Sara's fingers tap against her knee, jaw tight.

Finally, the brunette seems to come to some sort of decision and takes a deep breath.

Eyes finally meeting mine for the first time since she entered my office, she sits up slightly straighter in her chair.

"I was hoping to get a recommendation about someone…to see…about the stuff that's happened…"

Raising my brows, I quickly couch my reaction, trying not to let the surprise register on my face.

"Oh," I get out, trying to play this off like it's no big deal. When, in reality, for someone like Sara, it's a _huge_ deal. "Yeah, there're a couple good people I can give you the contact information for."

Reaching over, I grab a pen and scrap of paper.

Jotting down two names and two accompanying numbers, I slide the paper across the desk.

"One's a therapist through the department, he's been here for a number of years. Very good. Other's a private therapist we contract out with, refer a number of our families to her."

Taking the paper, Sara glances at the names briefly before pushing the paper into her jeans pocket.

"Thanks."

"Sara," I call when it looks like she's about to flee.

Eyes meeting mine, her hazel gaze answers the question of whether she's alright before I can ask it.

"I'm proud of you," I settle on saying instead.

She glances down at her hands before returning her gaze to mine.

"Getting the numbers is easy," she says quietly. "It's finding the courage to call them that I'm worried about."

Smiling knowingly, I reach over and pull one of her hands into my own.

"A step at a time."

Watching me, Sara eventually squeezes my hand in hers before letting go and getting to her feet.

Offering me a smile that's one of the first genuine ones I've seen her give anyone in a long time, she pauses in the doorway.

"See you around, Jim."

Smiling in return, I wave her off as she disappears from sight.

Well, I'll be damned.

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

Stepping up to the doorway, I knock lightly.

Waiting a moment, I'm about to turn back around when the front door opens quietly.

"Hey," Sara offers, voice barely above a whisper.

Stepping aside to let Mesa out, she moves out onto the porch, closing the door softly behind her.

"Sorry," she gestures back towards the house, voice closer to a normal volume. "Cath's asleep."

"Oh."

I watch as Mesa quirks his head at a squirrel staring at him from the branches of a tree.

"I can tell her you stopped by," she offers. "Or if it's important…"

"No," I cut in, waving off the offer to wake her. Catherine deserves some sleep after last night.

Sighing, I conclude that this moment couldn't be more awkward if my clothing suddenly disintegrated.

"Sara?" I question, forcing my eyes to hers.

Her gaze meets my own.

"Would you…" I pause, trying to figure out what it is I'm trying to ask. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"

Brows raising, Sara clamps down on her reaction to my words.

"Sure," she says neutrally. "Let me grab my keys."

* * *

><p>Glancing over, I watch the wind from the open window play with Sara's hair as she studies the scenery passing by from behind her aviators.<p>

Turning my attention back to the road, for once I don't feel the need to fill the silence, letting the noise from the road accompany us instead.

Taking another left, I glance around, making sure we're headed the right way as I accelerate, taking us further from the strip towards the older side of Vegas.

Passing a shuttered casino front, I take a right, driving us down towards an underpass, car slowing as I scan each alley as we go by.

Spotting what I'm looking for, I travel down the fourth alley until I emerge into what appears to be a deserted lot on the other side.

Crossing it, I join the few other cars parked near a brightly painted van.

Cutting the engine, Sara looks over at me curiously, raising a brow.

I don't comment, and neither does she, simply following after me as I exit the vehicle.

Walking around to the other side of the van, Sara fights a smile as she sees the words painted there.

"'Papa's Pies'?" she questions, head angled to the side.

"One bite and you'll understand."

Nodding slowly, Sara gives me the benefit of the doubt, waiting with me as the person in line finishes ordering from the vendor.

"Flynn! My God, I thought you died!"

Laughing, I step up to the window, shaking my head and taking Papa's offered hand to give it a squeeze.

"If only you were so lucky," I tell him with a smile.

"Oh nonsense!" he counters, giving my hand a light slap. "You're my favorite customer!"

"So you tell all the girls."

He smiles, sending me a wink. "Only the pretty ones."

Laughing, I shake my head, unable to help myself.

"Speaking of," he calls, gesturing to Sara standing behind me. "Who's your friend?"

"Papa, this is Sara," I offer. "Sara, Papa."

"Nice to meet you," Sara says.

"Pleasure's mine," he counters. "Any friend of Flynn's is a friend of Papa's."

"So," he states, slapping the window with excitement. "What's it gonna to be tonight?"

"Triple berry," I order without hesitation, eyes barely scanning the listed offerings.

"Perfect," he smiles widely. "And you?"

"French apple."

He nods eagerly, disappearing inside to fill our orders.

"What?" Sara questions, catching my glance.

"Fifteen flavors of pies and you choose apple?"

"_French_ apple."

"Right."

Shaking my head, I turn in time to grab our orders from Papa, taking the offered forks.

Reaching into my pocket for my money, he shakes his head.

"Nope, it's on me tonight," he states. "You girls look like you could use some warm cooking."

"No-" I start to argue, cut short when I see the look he's sending me.

"Alright," I state, already planning to make up for it with an overly generous tip the next time I'm here.

Offering our thanks, he shoos us away, already focusing on the next group of people approaching.

"There's a spot down near the end of the lot to eat," I gesture ahead of us. "If that's alright with you."

"Sure."

* * *

><p>Heading over, we step out from the sun into shadow as we pass under an overpass, making our way through a cement alley to come to the other side.<p>

Gesturing to an abandoned picnic table set against a concrete wall, Sara doesn't comment as she sits along the top of it next to me.

Eyes scanning the graffiti, I spot a couple new additions amidst the old familiar works.

"How'd you find this place?" Sara asks after a few minutes, working to open her pie container with her good hand.

"Got lost, stopped and asked Papa for directions. Ended up with wonderful directions, and even better pie."

Sara raises her brows, taking a bite left handed.

Swallowing, she shakes her head.

"This is ridiculously good," she says, eyes staring at her pie in disbelief.

"I know, right?" I shrug. "I don't want to know how someone prepares nor stores pies in a conversion van, but when it tastes this good I don't think it matters."

"Agreed."

Eating in silence, we take our time, not ready for the serious nature of this visit yet to come.

When we're out of pie and excuses, however, I set my fork down.

"I didn't realize things had gotten to that point for you," I tell her, watching the concrete artwork around us.

She doesn't comment, arms resting on her knees as she also watches the world around us through her dark lenses.

"I can't ever read you, Sara," I state honestly. "Not well enough to know when things really aren't okay."

"Nancy…"

"No," I counter. "This is important, because things really aren't okay."

Taking a breath, Sara surprises me when she doesn't argue.

"I know," she admits instead. "And I'm sorry you saw what you did last night."

Swallowing, she tugs the sleeves of her black sweater down further over her hands.

"I'm ashamed that you saw me like that."

Letting out a breath, adjusting to her admissions, her honesty, I shake my head.

"It's not something for you to be ashamed about," I tell her. "But it's certainly something to be concerned about."

Running my hands down my pants, I try to keep them steady.

"You had a loaded gun in your hand," I state, voice heavy. "And you begged me to leave you alone so you could end your life with it."

Swallowing, I'm suddenly glad I have my own sunglasses on.

"When did things get to that point?" I question in disbelief. "I saw you, talked with you, many times before last night. I never suspected you were that close to something like that."

Sara is quiet for a bit, shoulders hunching in slightly against the cool breeze.

"I think part of me has been at that point ever since I was a kid, Nancy."

Eyes widening, I turn, studying her profile.

It makes sense, I suppose. Seeing the things she has, experiencing the things she has. It'd be naive to think someone who's been through such hell would never think about ending it all.

But still, it's a hard admission to hear coming from someone you care so deeply about.

"I promise it doesn't happen again," her voice cuts into my thoughts. "I'll never do to you and Catherine what my family members did to me. I'm not taking the Sidle way out."

No one speaks for awhile, the wind the only noise around us as it carries leaves and other passengers along the cement.

Reaching over, I keep my gaze ahead of me as I place my hand along her knee, holding onto her tightly.

"Keep your word."

She nods, not pulling away.

"Not that I don't trust you," I state after a moment. "But I think this isn't something to be ignored, Sara. There's so much going on with you, and I'm certain I don't even know the half of it."

"You know the important parts," she tells me.

Pausing a few moments, she seems like she's trying to collect her thoughts, trying to figure out what she wants to say next.

"I, uh, I went and saw Brass this morning," she confesses, expression betraying how difficult this particular revelation is for her to make. "He gave me the names of a couple people…to talk to…"

Brows raising, I watch the breeze move wisps of her dark hair across her pale features.

Squeezing her leg, I can't help but marvel at the person sitting before me. The person who just now showed me the personification of bravery.

"I'm proud of you, Sara."

"Yeah, well, I'll tell you what I told Jim," she says, letting out a sigh. "Getting names is one thing, calling them is another."

"You have them on you?" I question.

Looking over, she raises a brow.

"Yeah…"

Holding out my hand, she studies me for a moment, finally reaching behind her to pull a piece of paper from her back pocket.

Taking my other hand off her leg, I note the two names listed. Then, carefully, I rip the paper in half.

"Nancy?"

Placing my hands behind my back, I glance up.

"Pick one."

"Nancy…"

"Pick one, Sara."

Swallowing, she shakes her head.

"Left."

Reaching into my pocket, I keep my hold on the pieces of paper firm as I pull out my cell phone. Glancing down at the name and number that was in my left hand, I dial the digits.

Holding it to my ear, I wait until it starts to ring.

Then, I extend it out towards Sara.

Watching the phone in my hand, she slowly reaches out, taking it and staring at it a moment more before tentatively raising it to her ear.

"Yes, hi," she states, clearing her throat. "My name is Sara Sidle…I'd like to make an appointment."

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

"Sara," I call her back after we pull into the drive.

Turning around, she furrows her brows.

"Yeah?"

"I have something for you," I tell her, trying to keep my expression neutral.

Something must tip her off though, because she suddenly looks like she's debating sneaking up the drive and into the house.

"Don't move," I caution her, stepping around the car to open the trunk.

Pulling out the intended item, Sara watches me warily as I move towards her.

Catching sight of what's in my hands, she holds out her own, stepping back.

"No way."

"Come on," I groan. "Don't make me take you by force."

Snorting, Sara shakes her head.

"Love to see you try."

Rolling my eyes, I fix her with a look.

"Sara, I had to reset your shoulder for the second time last night," I tell her seriously. "You're bordering on serious problems if you screw it up again before it's had a chance to heal."

"Nancy," she practically pleads. "Don't do this to me…try to make me feel all guilty and shit…"

I shrug.

"No need to feel guilty," I tell her. "Just thought you might want to retain the use of your right arm…you being right handed and all."

"You're an ass."

"Does that mean yes?"

She fixes me with a look.

"No."

Seeing my unwavering expression, she groans, reaching up to rub her temples with her good hand.

"Are you really serious about this?" she asks.

"Yes," I answer without hesitation, own voice dead serious. "Last night, the way it felt when I reset it… you're really going to be screwed if it dislocates again before it's healed."

Letting out a breath, she groans, shaking her head.

"Fucking hell, Nancy Flynn."

"Does that mean yes?"

Rolling her eyes, she closes them briefly in defeat.

Taking that as permission, I close the distance between us.

"Carefully, hold out your right arm."

Reluctantly, she does as I ask, eyes watching me warily as I bring the item out into full view, expression letting me know she's about as pleased about this as she would be if I told her I wanted to amputate the darn thing.

Sliding the sling over her arm, I quickly but carefully secure her arm to it using the straps inside.

Draping one of the long straps over her shoulder, I bring the other one with me as I step around behind her.

"Bend your arm at a ninety degree angle and place it against your waist."

Doing as I ask, I draw the straps tight once her arm is in position.

"Jesus," she groans as I secure them firmly along her back.

"Almost done," I tell her, reaching around her to grab the straps positioned on either side of the bottom of the sling.

Bringing them around her waist behind her, I feel her stiffen.

"What the hell…" she mutters, trying to crane her neck around to see behind her. "I thought slings just had the one strap over your shoulder?"

Securing the second set of straps behind her, I pull them tight and fix them in place.

Feeling the added restraint, her eyes take in the sight before her.

Looking over her arm strapped tightly into the sling, the sling which prevents motion vertically using the shoulder strap and horizontally using the waist strap, her eyes shoot to mine.

"Seriously?" she gets out.

Trying not to betray any sort of amusement at her expression, I shrug.

"Slings are designed a bit differently for dislocated shoulders."

"Yeah, apparently," she gets out. "And you tell me this now?"

"Oh gee," I mutter, glancing at my watch. "Got to head out…"

Reaching around behind her, she quickly finds that any attempt to free herself of the sling on her own is a lost cause.

"I'll remember this," she threatens, pointing at my retreating form with her good arm.

Getting into my car, I send her a cheerful wave as I pull off, laughing out loud as she responds with a wave of her own.

One involving a single finger.

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Leaning up against the doorframe, I watch her silently, taking in the way she moves, the way the light from the window glances off her eyes, her hair, the way she taps her fingers against the edge of the table where she sits.

Idly, I wonder how long it's been since I've watched her like this, simply observing her when she thinks no one is looking.

Smiling, I step further into the kitchen.

"I see my sister found you."

Looking up at my voice, my unexpected presence, Sara returns my smile with a nod and tentative smile of her own.

"Good," I tell her, gesturing to the sling. "About time."

Shaking her head, Sara groans.

"I take it then you're not going to help me out of this damn thing?"

"Not a chance."

Letting out a sigh, Sara looks dismayed.

Smiling, I reach over and ruffle her hair. "You're cute when you pout."

"I don't pout."

"No," I agree, assessing her. "You're more of a brooder."

Rolling her eyes, Sara looks away, trying to hide the bemused smile pulling at her lips.

I don't bother hiding my own.

It's been so long – days, weeks, months, it seems – since Sara and I shared a light moment like this. When we could simply tease and joke with one another without worrying about the weight of the world crashing in around us.

"I made you breakfast," her voice draws me from my thoughts. "Or dinner, whatever this is."

Raising a brow, I look around until I see the maple cinnamon oatmeal steaming in a bowl on the stove. In it are fresh cut bananas and strawberries.

"Blame your sister for the lack of culinary selection one can craft with one arm."

Shaking my head, I turn, stepping up to her without a word. Leaning down, I take her free hand in mine.

"It's perfect, thank you."

Her eyes fix on my own before traveling further down, her hazel gaze stopping at my mouth.

"I also made coffee…" she says, voice distracted.

I nod vaguely, my own eyes trailing down her cheekbones towards her lips.

"Thanks…"

Reaching forward, I gently trace those same lips with my thumb, watching as Sara's breathing slows to almost nothing.

"I…uh…"

Clearing my throat, I try again, shaking my head as I pull away from her.

"I should eat it while it's hot…"

Sara nods, clearing her own throat as she sends me a look of understanding. A look that lets me know she gets the reason I'm pulling away, the reason we can't, shouldn't, do what we were about to do.

Not now.

Not yet.

Not considering what happened just last night.

Taking my meal and sitting across from her, I claim her free hand in mine, keeping our fingers laced together as I eat.

We might be putting the brakes on in other areas, but I need to touch her right now, need to feel this physical connection with her.

Need to know that she's still here.

"I spoke with Brass this morning," her voice cuts in after a few minutes of silence, the tone slightly strained, but steady. "Asked him for the names of a couple people he would recommend...to talk to."

Eyebrows raising, my spoon pauses inches from my mouth.

"I have an appointment on Monday."

Eyes closing briefly at her words, I put my spoon down, tightening my grip on her hand.

"Sara…I…"

Shaking my head, I marvel at this woman whom I love. Each and every day she continues to surprise me, continues to impress me with the sheer depths of her strength, her character.

"You amaze me," I eventually settle on saying. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."

She smiles slightly.

"The numbers were burning holes in my pocket, Nancy was the one who dialed the phone."

"Doesn't matter," I tell her. "You're the one who got them from Jim, you're the one who made the appointment to go."

My eyes assess hers.

"You're the one who was strong enough to admit you needed help."

Taking a deep breath, she nods her head slowly, eyes filled with a thousand different thoughts and emotions I could never hope to sort out even if I had a thousand years.

"I would say I love you," I tell her quietly. "But it doesn't really seem adequate right now. No words I can think of seem adequate, really."

Smiling lightly, she squeezes my hand, bringing the joined appendages towards her.

Placing my hand against her chest, she holds it there. I feel the racing of her heartbeat, the thundering of the organ against her ribcage.

"No words needed," she whispers, eyes warm. "And the feeling's mutual."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	36. Chapter 36

**AN: Thank you all for your continued support and reviews. Means so much. Hope everyone is doing well and having a good weekend.**

**Take care.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 36<p>

"_I remembered that the real world was wide, and that a varied field of hopes and fears, of sensations and excitements, awaited those who had the courage to go forth into its expanse, to seek real knowledge of life amidst its perils."  
>― Charlotte Brontë, <em>_Jane Eyre_

* * *

><p>DR. MAY POV<p>

I don't glance up as Chelsea escorts my 7:30am patient in. I don't have to.

"Take a seat," I offer, making a couple more notes in my file.

Seeing in my peripheral vision that the seat across my desk remains empty, I finally glance up.

"These sessions generally last about an hour. It's a long time to stay standing, but if it's what you'd prefer, then knock yourself out."

Hazel eyes assess me, taking in everything about me, and then everything about my office.

"Seriously, Ms. Sidle, sit down," I close the file with a sigh. "You're giving my neck a cramp."

Eyes narrowing faintly, she does as I ask, pushing the chair slightly back as she sits.

"How can I help you today?"

The expression on her face shifts, eyes moving towards the file on my desk.

"It's not obvious?"

Laughing, I tap the file with my fingers.

"Oh, no," I tell her seriously. "The need for therapy is obvious. The clarification regarding _which_ issue in particular you want help with, however, isn't."

Jaw tightening, Sara readjusts her position in her seat.

"I don't know," she says. "I don't know how something like this usually works…where someone usually starts…"

"Alright," I shrug, folding my hands across my desk. "How about I suggest some potential areas of concern and you can choose?"

Sara's eyes continue to watch mine.

"Fine."

"Excellent." I pull the file open. "Let's see here."

Glancing over pages that I've already memorized, I drum my fingers against my desk.

"You can choose from your abusive household…your brother's suicide - either brother…your sister's molestation…your sister's death…your mother's incarceration…your mother's suicide…your father's murder…your rapes - either by your father or your brother…your drug abuse problem…your borderline drinking problem…the various fatal shootings you've been involved in…"

Glancing up I see her expression is tight, her eyes dark and guarded.

"Your choice, Ms. Sidle."

Hands tightening into fists, she clenches her jaw.

"Fine," I shrug. "I'll choose. How about…"

I glance back over the file before closing it and fixing her gaze evenly with my own.

"How about you tell me about the first night you were raped by your father? How did it make you feel? Did it make you happy when he died?"

All but glaring at me, Sara pushes back from her chair, getting to her feet.

"Fuck you."

Reaching my office door, she pulls it open with such force it slams into the wall beside her.

Swinging in its frame, Sara's long gone by the time it stops moving.

* * *

><p>SARA POV<p>

"You're not taking into account the ambient temperature of the water."

"What?" Nick's voice is confused, eyes glancing over his notes. "Yes we did. 56.4 degrees."

"You're not taking into account the ambient temperature of the water _correctly_," I amend my statement.

Nick's eyes stare at me like I have two heads, but it's another pair of eyes assessing me from further back in the room that has my heart hammering in my chest.

"What happened last night?" I ask Nick, keeping my focus on the person and the pair of eyes I can handle dealing with right now.

"Huh?" he questions, brows furrowed in frustrated confusion.

Deciding to make this process easier, I gesture above me.

Glancing up, he looks even more confused.

"The storm, Nicky."

"Right," he states slowly, his expression still confused. "But there was hardly any rain, just a lot of lightning. That amount of rain wouldn't have impacted the temperature in the pool significantly."

"Not unless there were other variables affected by the storm."

Narrowing his eyes, he places his palms against the layout table.

"The lights went out for about two minutes…but again...not really an issue…," he trails off, sending a frustrated glance towards the silent blond still standing quietly in the back of the room.

She's of no help, her eyes remaining focused directly on me.

Deciding to get this over with, I gesture to the pictures of the pool.

"The pool was heated," I tell him, pointing to the plastic heater unit perched along the side. "Keeping the water at a very different temperature than the winter nights in Vegas would keep it, if the setting on the dial is any indication. The power outage likely triggered a surge. Normally those types of heaters are tied into the house breaker system…"

"And the surge triggered the breaker and would've shut off the heater. We assumed it wasn't running because it didn't turn back on with the rest of the electricity in the house," he states with a groan, mentally kicking himself for the oversight.

I nod, sending him a supportive look to not beat himself up about it, after all it's been a long shift.

"Your time of death is probably a lot shorter than you think," I summarize, picturing the body spending most of its time in the warm pool water before the power surge and rain caused a rapid cooling.

"Yeah," he breathes out, eyes roaming over his case file.

Tapping his fingers on the edge of it, he shakes his head and offers me a look.

"Thanks," he says, straightening up and making his way to the door. "I'm going to go recalculate things."

"Sure," I offer, though he's already out in the hall.

Not looking up, I gather my own papers spread across the table, my free hand making quick work of the items.

I nearly bang my limbs into the table legs in surprise when a hand reaches out and gently takes hold of my wrist.

My motions stilled, my excuses not to look at her dashed, I swallow and try to calm my breathing.

Eyes finally making their way to hers, I offer her a nod and a small smile.

"Hey," I greet awkwardly, as this is essentially the first time we've seen each other this morning.

"Hey," she offers quietly in response, expression warm, concerned, tentative. "I…"

She trails off, and I feel my heart clenching at her struggle, at her hesitance.

Catherine is the most confident and secure person I know, I hate it when she doubts herself. I hate it when it's _me_ that causes her to doubt herself.

Taking a breath, she steels her resolve, eyes focused squarely on my own.

"How'd it go this morning?" she gets out, gaze nervously searching my expression.

Her eyes hold so much hope, so much love and warmth that I have to physically fight the temptation to look away.

I tighten my jaw, clamping down on the temptation to tell her just how horribly this morning went. To tell her that I basically told that wretched therapist to go fuck herself.

Reaching out with her free hand, Catherine gently runs her fingers down my tense jaw, eyes narrowing in concern.

"Sar?" she questions.

Swallowing, I bolster my resolve, not having it in me to crush the hope in her eyes. Not after everything that's happened, everything I've put her through.

I've made her witness me at some of my darkest hours, and there's no way I'm going to bring anymore darkness into her life. Not now, not when I think we've both started to see glimpses of light at the end of this very tumultuous road we've been traveling.

I won't let this, let that woman, take that away from us. From Catherine.

"It was okay," I answer, clearing my throat when the words feel like they're choking me.

Her eyes assess my own, gaze threatening to penetrate straight through to my soul.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I affirm, trying to keep my voice, my body steady.

"So you're going back?" she asks, the optimism in her voice causing yet more constrictions in my chest, my heart.

Swallowing, I know there's only one answer I can give this beautiful and loving woman who's been through so much.

"Yes."

Eyes closing in relief, some of the tension leaves her frame, her hand still holding my wrist traveling down to hold my hand instead.

"I'm so proud of you," she tells me, blue gaze fixing on my own when she opens her eyes again.

Leaning in, she places her lips gently against my temple.

"So proud, Sara."

* * *

><p>"I don't give a shit if she's with the Dali Lama," I get out through clenched teeth. "Tell her someone's been added to her schedule."<p>

Sighing, the overly made up woman behind the fancy mahogany desk looks unimpressed with me.

"Miss," she breaths out, like forming words is a chore. "She's already left for the day."

"Bullshit."

The woman glances anxiously around the waiting room, plastering a fake smile on her face.

"Miss, please," she offers in sugary, hushed tone. "You're making the other clients nervous."

I raise a brow, casting a brief glance behind me at the one other person in the waiting room. A man reading a magazine who doesn't even glance up, clearly engrossed in whatever he's reading.

"You tell her I'm here to see her or I do it myself," I spin back around and fix her with a piercing gaze.

"I told you, she's already left-"

She doesn't get to finish her statement before I sidestep the desk and make quick work of the hall.

"Hey!"

Reaching Dr. May's office, I all but shove her door open.

Thank the heavens she's alone, because I would've actually felt a bit bad if I barged in on someone else's session.

Head jerking up, she looks at me, her eyes slightly wide, but not looking entirely surprised.

Which only pisses me off further.

"Ms. Sidle?" she questions, expression calm. "I wasn't aware we had an appointment."

"Cut the crap," I force out. "I don't know what the hell game you're trying to play with me, but it's not going to work."

"Excuse me?"

I clench my hand into a fist.

"That shit you pulled with me this morning?" I shake my head. "Fuck with me all you want, but you're not going to fuck with the people I love."

"I wasn't aware I had…"

Stepping forward I point a threatening finger at her.

"There're a lot of people counting on this therapy tripe to work," I tell her none too kindly. "You're not screwing that up for them."

She looks like she's about to respond when her eyes shift to somewhere behind me.

Before I know it, a pair of strong hands grabs me by my upper arms, pulling me firmly back.

Clenching my teeth against the pain shooting through my shoulder, I fight against the restraint.

"Let her go," Dr. May states, getting to her feet and putting down her pen.

Whoever this bear of a man they use for security around here is, he doesn't listen, pulling me further back, nearly lifting me off my feet.

"Let her go," she demands, her voice this time raising several volume levels. "Now!"

The hands gripping me pause, hesitating before finally releasing me.

Stepping away, I try to steady myself against the waves of agony pulsing near my collarbone.

"Get out."

At first I'm not sure who her eerily low command is directed to, but it becomes clear after a moment when she approaches the guard and points to the door.

"Out. Now."

The guard has about two feet of height on this woman, but he actually looks a bit tentative.

Raising his arms in surrender, he glances at me one last time before leaving, pulling the door shut behind him.

"You okay?" she asks me, turning her focus towards my arm.

"I'm fine."

She lets out a sigh, pushing her hair back from her face as some of the fight seems to leave us both.

"You're right," she tells me with a shake of her head. "Our first meeting was designed to go exactly how it did for a reason."

I clench my jaw, having suspected as such, but anger building up inside all the same.

"Don't fuck around with me," I warn her seriously. "I'm willing to give this therapy thing a shot, but not if you're going to play mind games on me."

I fix her with a look.

"It happens again and I walk."

She nods, eyes staying on mine.

"You have my word."

She shakes her head, letting out a breath.

"I'm sorry," she offers, and I don't know why I'm surprised to hear a doctor, a therapist, apologize, but I am. "I was wrong to approach you with that particular tactic. I suspected it then, and I'm ashamed I didn't listen to my instincts."

I let out my own breath, shifting my stance slightly.

"Brass recommended you," I tell her. "I trust him."

The unspoken words are obvious to us both, so I don't feel the need to state them. I trust Jim, so I'm willing to give her another shot, but I by no means trust her.

"Fair enough."

Straightening up, she makes her way back around her desk.

"Why don't we plan a meeting for tomorrow? I'll explain everything to you and perhaps, if you're willing, we can start moving forward."

I search her eyes.

"What time?"

"Seven p.m.?"

I raise a brow.

"My schedule's pretty full during the day."

I nod slowly, realizing she's sacrificing her personal time to see me.

"See you then."

"Sara?" she calls me back as my hand is on the knob.

"Yeah?"

"You sure you're alright?" she questions, eyes roaming over the sling on my arm.

"Physically, yes. The rest is up to you to decide."

Smiling at my half-serious response, she nods.

"See you tomorrow, Sara."

* * *

><p>SARA POV<p>

Approaching the porch, I cast a curious glance at the two occupants sitting next to each other on the steps.

"Hey."

Smiling, Nancy offers me a wave. "Hey yourself."

"Everything okay?" I ask, petting Mesa near his ears as he rises to greet me.

"Everything's fine," Catherine assures me. "We were just chatting while we were waiting for you to get home."

"Okay…"

I look between them, knowing there's more they're not saying, but electing to drop it. Whatever it is they were discussing is their business.

"We made dinner," Nancy says. "Yours is in the oven staying warm."

"Oh," I offer in surprise, touched by the gesture. "Thanks."

Heading inside, I carefully grab the plate from the oven, tucking a bottle of water under my arm on the way back outside.

"Need help?" Catherine offers as I sit on the bottom step, her eyes watching me try to remove the aluminum foil from the top of the plate with my one available arm.

"Nope," I tell her, finally pulling the foil free. "And if anyone should help it's your sister who insisted on this damn thing."

She doesn't need clarification as to what 'damn thing' I'm referring.

"Only two more weeks," Nancy offers cheerily.

Eyes darting to hers, I shake my head.

"No way. Two more _hours_ maybe."

When our stare down continues, we both shift our gazes to the third party.

"Oh no," Catherine states, raising her hands. "I'm not involved in this."

"You will be if you ever want your lover over there to be able to touch you with _both _her hands."

"Jesus," I choke, coughing up the water I just swallowed.

"Hmm," Catherine hums, barely a trace of pink on her cheeks. "In that case I think I have to side with Nance on this one."

Smiling from ear to ear, Nancy pats me on the back as I clear the remaining liquid from my lungs.

"Sorry, sugarbuns," she tells me. "You're outnumbered."

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Waving to my sister as she drives off, I turn and head back into the house, smiling at Sara as she leans on the doorway to the kitchen.

"Sometimes I want to kill your sister," she confesses to me, shaking her head, a smile pulling at her mouth despite her best efforts.

"Hmm," I hum, stepping closer to her. "I personally think her concerns are quite valid…"

I trail off, stepping into Sara's personal space.

"Your hands are very valuable to me," I offer in a near whisper.

Then, almost as if my own hands are possessed, they reach forward, trailing slowly down Sara's sides before resting on her hips.

"Yeah?" she questions, own voice low.

"Yeah."

Sara's eyes assess mine for a moment or two, the clicking of the second hand of the living room clock the only noise audible in the entire house.

I'm not even entirely sure either one of us is breathing.

Reaching forward with her free hand, Sara's gaze remains on mine as she slowly trails her fingers down my temple, tucking some wayward locks of hair behind my ear.

"Thank you."

Her words, quiet and thick with emotion, surprise me.

"For what?" I ask, eyes furrowed in question.

"For still being here."

Head tilting to the side, I study her, trying to get insight into the meaning of her statement from her eyes, her expression.

"Sara?"

Her hand rests against the side of my head, her thumb trailing gently across my temple.

"All that's happened…all I've done…all you've gone through because of me…because of my family…"

She shakes her head, her eyes colored with emotion.

"All that, and you're still here. With me."

A breath escapes my chest as the meaning of her words is now clear. I move one of my hands from her hip to tilt her chin back up, keeping my hand there and our gazes locked.

"There's nowhere else for me to be," I tell her sincerely. "You're my soulmate, Sara Sidle."

I note the subtle stiffening of her body beneath my fingers at the inclusion of her last name. The name which still holds so many unspoken emotions, feelings for the brunette.

"And being here is not some chore or sacrifice," I tell her, drawing her thoughts back to the present. "It's an honor."

Her eyes move between mine, the greens and browns of her gaze blending together in the warm glow of the evening light trailing through the windows.

Before I can form another thought, Sara steps slightly forward, her body mere millimeters from mine. Her lips are suddenly on my own, her fingers tangling themselves into my hair.

Body snapping into action at the feeling, my hips place themselves flush against her own, both my hands embedding themselves in her own hair, deepening the kiss.

My tongue meets with hers, both of us fighting for dominance, our bodies trying to connect on every possible level.

Hands traveling south, I grab the waist of her jeans and pull her against me.

It's been so long since we've truly let go like this, so long since we've let down our walls and let our desires, our pure love for one another take control.

No logic, no thinking, only emotion guiding our bodies, our hearts.

I gasp as Sara's hand finds its way under my shirt, her fingers trailing along the small of my back, moving higher and higher.

"I think my sister might be wrong," I mumble against her lips, breath hitching as she trails kisses down towards my neck.

"I think…" I raise my head in near ecstasy as her lips, her tongue reach the sensitive spot near my collar bone.

"You're able to do…" another gasp escapes my mouth as her fingers unclasp my bra.

"Just fine…" my head raises completely toward the ceiling, eyes closing in bliss as her breath tickles against my flushing skin, my shirt now long gone and laying somewhere on the floor.

"With only one hand."

Sara smiles against my skin, and then the world starts to fade away around me, my mouth no longer able to form words, my brain no longer able to form thoughts as limbs tangle together, bodies becoming one as we push our way towards the bedroom.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


	37. Chapter 37

**AN: Thanks again for all those who have stuck with this story and lended your support. You guys kept the chapters and the inspiration coming. **

**It is with mixed feelings I announce this is the second to last chapter of this story. Hope you guys have enjoyed the journey - it's been an honor to take another one with you all. See you all at the final chapter - Chapter 38.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 37<p>

_"While I looked, my inner self moved; my spirit shook its always-fettered wings half loose; I had a sudden feeling as if I, who never yet truly lived, were at last about to taste life."_

_― Charlotte Brontë, Villette_

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><p>DR. MAY POV<p>

"Take a seat."

Grabbing the coffee pot from the side counter, I pour two steaming cups, neither one of which I bother diluting with cream or sugar.

Turning, I set one on the table in front of the brunette, watching her as she watches me.

Finally breaking her gaze, Sara's eyes take in the room around her, sending me one final glance before taking a seat.

It doesn't escape my notice that she chooses a seat a good two seats away from my own.

"Thought you'd appreciate a less…intimate…setting for our first session," I offer in explanation of our presence in my building's conference room. "Most people here leave around four thirty. It's absolutely vacant at this late hour."

Sara nods, lifting her coffee to take a tentative sip.

"How's the arm?" I ask, gesturing to the black sling standing out against her grey t-shirt.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to sue you."

There's a slight glint to Sara's eyes that lets me know she's pulling my leg, and I take it to be her way of extending the proverbial olive branch, of wiping the slate clean of our previous encounters to focus on moving forward.

"Good, because the fruits of that labor would surely disappoint."

Sara smiles slightly before her expression shifts and she sets her coffee down, wiping her hand anxiously across her jeans.

"So how does this work?"

"We talk," I tell her, cradling my own coffee in my hands.

"Simple as that, right?"

"Not at all," I counter. "Talking about things, opening up about your life, your emotions, that's one of the hardest things for the body, the mind to try to do."

Sara doesn't comment, hazel eyes simply watching me, not giving anything away, clearly letting me take the lead.

"I thought I'd start by explaining my earlier approach towards you, if that's alright."

I wait until Sara nods, giving her accent to this particular topic.

"It's called the trench approach," I say. "You basically confront someone, upset them, and then learn about their support system based on who in their life they tell about the experience and what they tell them. Who they allow into the 'trenches' with them so to speak."

Sara raises a brow.

"Really?" she questions. "Seems like a good way to lose your clients."

I nod, "You do run the risk of people storming out and not coming back, but that's also a bit of a test in and of itself, who comes back and who doesn't," I answer. "And we're pretty good at tracking people down."

Sara shakes her head, not commenting further, but her expression telling me she's willing to see where this all goes for now.

"So," I prompt. "Would you mind if we start there? Try to make my ill inspired tactic of some value?"

Taking a swallow of coffee, Sara eventually shrugs with her good shoulder. "Alright."

"Alright," I let out a breath, picking up my pen. "Who in your life knows that you're seeing a therapist?"

"Catherine," she answers. "And Nancy."

"That's it?" I ask, noting the names from the questionnaire Sara, and all my patients, are offered the opportunity to fill out prior to their first session about the major people and events in their life. Offering people the opportunity to write about some of their buried secrets so the idea of having to confess them in person isn't a barrier to getting them in the door.

"Brass probably suspects since he recommended you, but I haven't officially told him I'm going."

"Okay," I state, noting the information in Sara's file. "So, we'll focus on Catherine and Nancy. Have you talked with either of them about our first session?"

Sara nods. "They both asked how it went."

"And?" I prompt, noting that Sara is not exactly the type of person to volunteer anything other than what you directly ask her. "What did you say?"

Sara takes a breath, her expression letting me know she's not thrilled about giving this particular answer. From my brief dealings with her, I can already pretty much guess what it will be.

"I told them it went well."

I smile, raising a brow as I note this down. "Oh?" I comment. "Good, I thought it went well, too."

Sara lets out a smile of her own, shaking her head. "Yeah, perhaps not the most honest of answers I suppose."

"Why didn't you tell them the truth?"

The brunette takes a moment to collect her response before she picks up her coffee again.

"I didn't, _don't_, want them to worry about me," she answers, voice quiet. "They've been through enough lately."

"Because of you?"

"Yes."

"So you feel guilty, and want them to have the reassurance that you're okay. That everything's back to being fine?"

"Yes."

"Do you think they believed you?" I question.

Sara hesitates a moment.

"Yes."

I write her answer down, tapping my pen on my knee when I look back up.

"Do you normally tell them the truth? Admit when things in your life, when _you_ aren't okay?"

Again, Sara hesitates.

"Not always," she admits reluctantly.

I quirk my head.

"Not always? Or never?"

"I've been trying to be more honest, more open with them," she gets out, voice slightly tight. "Even telling them I needed help, was coming to see you. That's not something I would have done before."

"But did you tell them that for your sake, or theirs?" I question. "Did you tell them because you knew the admission was what they were waiting for, what they needed to hear from you?"

Sara looks away, the action answer enough.

"The point I'm making here, Sara, is that your support system in your life isn't a support system unless you're actually using it."

She doesn't give me eye contact.

"You're the one supporting _your _support system."

"They support me," Sara cuts in, eyes moving back to mine. "They've been through hell because of me, and they're still there by my side. It's more than anyone could ask from the people in their life."

"Would you have done the same for them?"

"Of course," she responds, eyes furrowed.

"Then maybe they're doing what any good friend or partner would do."

"No," Sara disagrees, eyes darkening.

"Why not?" I ask. "Seems like a shitty friend that would leave someone when they need them the most."

"I held a gun to Nancy's head, a loaded gun with my finger on the trigger," Sara grinds out, hand tightening to a fist by her side. "I used to wish Catherine goodnight and then go swallow a bunch of narcotics in our bathroom. "

She shakes her head, body tense.

"The stuff I put them through…" her voice tightens. "It's not the type of stuff anyone should be expected to stick around after."

"Would you have left them?" I ask.

Sara's jaw tightens, her head angling away.

"_Did _you leave them?" I question her. "Did you leave Nancy when she nearly killed you with the stun gun? Did you leave Catherine when she ignored your concerns about Chris? When she chose him over you?"

"Nancy had no choice," Sara responds lowly. "And Catherine made a mistake. We all did."

"My point is that you've all made sacrifices for each other," I tell her, trying to get her eyes to meet my own. "That it's not something to feel guilty about or indebted over. You've sacrificed for them as well."

She still averts her gaze, eyes focused on the conference room table.

"It's not something you keep tallies on. Keep score about. Sacrificing is something you simply do for those you love."

I look her up and down, voice softening.

"And, to be completely honest, Sara," I tell her. "You look like someone who's spent most her lifetime sacrificing for others, protecting the people in her life."

I send a pointed look towards her shoulder, to the healing gash near her eyebrow.

Sara's head lowers slightly, the tension in her body slowly shifting to what appears to be a deep exhaustion. I bone deep weariness that I suspect runs deeper than I could even guess.

"Do you love them?" I ask her quietly.

She's silent a few moments, taking in one slow, deep breath after another.

"Yes."

Finally, her eyes are on mine.

"Good," I tell her softly. "Now, Sara, let's work on getting you to a point where you let them love _you_."

* * *

><p>NANCY POV<p>

"How'd it go?" I question the brunette as she approaches, pulling myself to a stand.

Shutting her car door, she pushes her keys into her jeans pocket.

"Good, I'm cured."

"Clearly not," I tell her with a smile. "You're still a smartass."

Sara smiles back slightly, her smile brightening when she sees the coffee I'm holding out towards her.

"Thanks," she says, taking a long drink. "And thanks for agreeing to push our walk back a couple hours."

"Of course," I tell her, not having hesitated a second when she asked if we could postpone our walk until after her session with Dr. May.

"Brought you something else."

Sara raises a brow, moving slightly away from me as we start down the gravel path of our favorite park.

"The last gift you brought me was more pleasurable than I can express," she tells me darkly, eyes shifting to her sling. "I couldn't possibly feel right accepting another treasure from you."

"I'd smack you if it didn't feel so wrong to do to you after you just got back from a therapy session."

Sara snorts, shaking her head as she swallows some of her coffee.

"No," I tell her, waggling my brows at her. "This one I think you'll like."

Quirking her own brow, Sara still looks like she's waiting for me to pull a switchblade from my pants.

Reaching into my back pocket, I pull the item out, extending it to Sara.

Her steps pausing, she studies the item in my open palm, her eyes shifting to mine.

"Tell me you know what this is," I state, looking at her questioning expression.

"Of course I do," she answers quietly, but makes no move to accept the item, her eyes still moving between it and my own.

"My patient made two of these for me today," I explain, watching her carefully to be sure she isn't about to enter into some sort of catatonic state, her expression starting to freak me out a bit. "She's six, she loves crafts and this is something she can do to distract her when she's getting her chemo."

I take a breath, trying to keep my own thoughts on the present and away from my patient who we still aren't sure is going to pull through this time around.

"She told me to wear one and give the other to my best friend."

I hesitate, looking at Sara's expression, the brunette's gaze now locked on the item in my hands, body completely frozen.

"That's…uh, well, that's you…of course…so…"

I trail off, furrowing my brows uncertainly, "But it's okay if you don't want it…I mean friendship bracelets aren't exactly common fashion for people outside of middle school…so-"

"No, it's perfect," Sara cuts me off, voice a whisper, eyes taking in the red and purple threads carefully knotted and woven together intricately.

Carefully, she takes the bracelet from my hand, balancing her coffee against her body with her slinged arm.

Running the bracelet between her fingers, she clears her throat, eyes moving towards mine.

"Thank you."

I nod, finding it suddenly hard to form words in this moment, this moment that I now realize extends beyond a bracelet to something much deeper that it represents.

Clearing my own throat, I tuck my coffee into the crook of my elbow with a nod.

"Here," I offer, gesturing for her to hand it to me.

She does so, allowing me to turn her free, left hand over and tie the bracelet carefully to her wrist.

Eyes unable to help themselves, my gaze travels further up her arm as my fingers keep their gentle hold on her wrist, taking in the deep scar etched into her forearm, the 'L' that my eyes are allowed to truly take in for the first time.

Moving of its own accord, my hand travels slowly up her arm, fingers tracing the angry mark.

Eyes closing, I fight against the emotions pulling and clenching into a tight mass in my chest. I fight against the emotions I want to express, the words I want to scream out.

None of them will be helpful, none of them will take back the scar, take back the events that led to it.

Opening my eyes back up, I study Sara, her own gaze hard to read as her eyes focus slightly off to my left.

"I…"

I clear my throat, shaking my head.

"Sara…I…"

Swallowing, Sara nods, eyes finally shifting to mine.

"I know."

I let a long breath escape my lips, my head shaking at my inability to express what I want to say to her.

"I know, Nancy," she whispers.

Studying her gaze, I finally nod, removing my hand from her arm to place it gently against her chest instead.

A moment or two passes before I take a steadying breath, removing my hands from her and taking a slight step away.

Slowly, we both resume our steps, continuing on our walk as we try to settle our respective thoughts.

Deciding to refocus our thoughts, our moods, I take a sip of my coffee before deciding to broach the topic I've been impressively keeping to myself so far this evening.

"So how was your night last night after I left?" I ask casually. "Watch anything good? Read anything good?"

Sara sends me a hesitant look, knowing me well enough not to trust there isn't some hidden agenda behind this particularly odd line of questioning.

"Not really," she says.

"No?" I question innocently. "Didn't do anything exciting?"

Sara shrugs slowly, eyeing me warily.

"Not really…"

"Oh," I shrug myself, waiting until Sara puts her coffee cup to her mouth. "I thought sleeping with my sister would have at least qualified as a little bit exciting…"

Perfectly on cue, Sara has coffee coming out both nostrils.

"Damn it, Nancy!" she gets out between coughs.

Smiling, I casually sip my own coffee, keeping an eye on her to make sure she doesn't actually aspirate or anything, but unable to help the chuckle that escapes my mouth at her expression when she finally gets her breathing back under control.

"You should really stop trying to asphyxiate me with my beverages."

"You should really change the locks on your doors," I offer as my own suggestion. "My eyes got a lot more out of a trip to return Catherine's crock pot this morning than they bargained for."

"Good Lord," Sara groans.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about," I tell her, patting her on the back. "Thrilled beyond belief to see you guys finally happy in that way again together."

I send her a look.

"Perhaps just not so literally next time."

* * *

><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

Glancing up from the form I'm signing, I do a double take when I see the figure standing by the doorway.

Gesturing her in, I glance up at Sofia as I hand her back the case file.

"There you go."

"Thanks," Sofia says, offering Sara a surprised and pleasant nod when she turns to see her now standing by the bookshelf.

"Sorry to interrupt," Sara states, glancing between Sofia and I.

"Not at all," Sofia answers before I can. "I was just leaving. Nice to see you, Sara."

"You too," the brunette says, offering Sofia a genuine smile as the detective makes her way out.

Stepping slightly further into my office, Sara glances at the paperwork on my desk.

"Sorry to bother you, just wanted to stop by and see if you needed anything before I head over to work on some stuff."

"Never a bother," I immediately correct her. "Sorry I got called in – you don't have to stick around for me if you want to head home."

"Nope, too much to do."

"None of which can wait, I'm sure."

Sara sends me a look, to which I wink and gesture for her to close my office door.

Raising a brow, Sara does so, returning back to stand near my desk.

"How'd your session go this evening?"

Sara smiles slightly at my question, placing her free hand in her pocket.

"Making progress."

Nodding, I reach over and give her good shoulder a supportive squeeze.

Looking down, I take hold of Sara's arm, gently pulling her hand from her pocket.

"This is beautiful," I tell her, running my fingers over the bracelet on her wrist.

"Complements of your sister."

I look up, gaze meeting with Sara's and expression morphing into a smile.

"Yeah?" I question, running my thumb over her wrist one last time before giving her her hand back.

"Yeah," Sara affirms, expression lost in thought for a moment before she clears her throat. "Speaking of which, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Taking a deep breath, I nod, having figured Sara and I would need to address this particular topic at some point.

"I'm guessing you want to talk about last night?"

Sara nods, eyes searching mine.

Gesturing to the chairs by my desk, we take a seat, rearranging ourselves so we're facing one another.

Trying to read Sara's expression, I nervously attempt to find something to do with my hands.

"You think we're going too fast?" I ask, worried she's regretting our actions from the night before.

"I think last night was beautiful," she says softly. "Amazing."

"But…too soon?"

"I don't know," she says honestly. "I think that depends."

Furrowing my brows, I nervously shake my head.

"On what?"

"On what we are," she answers, her expression calm and gentle despite the emotions I know are stirring beneath the surface for the brunette. "On where we're headed."

"Sara?" I whisper. "What're you trying to say?"

Letting out a breath, Sara reaches over, taking one of my hands in hers.

"I think I'm ready."

I watch her, again desperately trying to read this woman that is so darn unreadable.

"Ready?"

"Dr. May today referred to you as my partner."

The comment throws me off, leaving me even more confused.

"She called you my partner," Sara says. "And I didn't correct her."

Tightening my grip on her hand, I lock my gaze with Sara's, her comments slowly starting to take shape and make sense of this conversation.

Immediately, my heart begins racing nervously in my chest, my brain struggling to believe what's happening.

"Are you saying…"

"I'm saying I want to stop wasting time," she says, voice thick. "I'm saying it's probably selfish and illogical but I want to be with the person that I love."

Her fingers lace their way through mine.

"I'm saying I want to never have to correct Dr. May, Catherine," her eyes are heavy with emotion, her gaze faltering slightly. "I'm saying I still have no clue what the hell lies ahead, but I want to face this ridiculously insane life with you. Together."

Her voice lowers to a near whisper.

"If you'll still have me."

Ignoring the tears running down my face or the fact that my office blinds are open, I lean forward, taking Sara's face in my hands.

"Look at me, Sara."

Doing as I ask, Sara's heavy gaze meets with mine.

"I'm yours," I tell her, trying to keep my voice from breaking. "And I'll always be humbled and honored to call you mine for as long as you let me."

Searching my eyes, Sara slowly nods, fighting against the emotions and the tears welling in her own.

Reaching forward, she pulls me into her embrace with her available arm, holding me closely.

Completing the gesture, I clench tightly to her back, head pressed firmly against her neck.

"I love you."

I'm honestly not sure which one of us said it, but it doesn't matter, the words professed between us might as well have been spoken as one.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading. See you all at the next and final chapter.<strong>


	38. Chapter 38

**AN: Still alive, so very sorry in the delay. Did not forget about you all. Hope everyone is doing well. Thank you all for your support throughout this story, including your patience during some of the gaps in updates. I really have appreciated all of your guys' support throughout this story and the stories in the series that preceded it. You have no idea how much your kind words have meant. You all truly inspire me.**

**Until we meet again, I wish all the best to everyone. Thanks again for accompanying me on another journey. Hopefully you've enjoyed the ride.  
><strong>

**Take care.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 38<p>

_"Remember tonight…for it is the beginning of always."_

_Unknown_

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><p>CATHERINE POV<p>

"Everything's changed so much."

Lacing her fingers through mine, Sara squeezes my hand.

Looking up at her, I can tell from the expression on her face that she knows I'm not simply referring to the scenery around us.

Squeezing her hand in return, I bring our joined fingers to my mouth for a gentle kiss.

"So beautiful."

Again, my comment isn't directed simply at our surroundings.

Smiling with a slight shake to her head, Sara keeps her gaze out over the hillside.

It's hard to rectify the fact that this is the same hill, the same trail that we climbed via snowshoes in the middle of a snowstorm when we came here with Nancy what seems like ages ago.

Now, the ground is filled with lush, green grass, trees previously bare are flowing with blossoms. The silence we experienced formerly is now filled with sounds of gentle breezes flowing through newly formed leaves, with birds calling out to one another in song.

"I'm glad we decided to do this."

Realizing that we both had the weekend off, Sara and I made an impromptu plan to get away for a couple days, returning to the cabin in southern Utah we previously visited. The cabin that represented the last truly happy time we shared before everything that happened to drive us so very far apart.

Standing here now, holding Sara's hand in mine, I cannot help but feel amazed at the changes that have not only come over this land since we've been gone, but the changes that have transpired over us.

Now formally back together for the last couple months, Sara and I's relationship is stronger than it's ever been. I think it takes almost losing someone, losing something so dear to you, to make you cherish them that much more if you're lucky enough to be given a second chance.

Watching the brunette's profile, I also cannot help but marvel at the changes that have taken place for her. She's still working towards recovering from everything that's happened physically, her arm now free of its sling but not quite fully healed, and her weight much improved but still nowhere near where she should be.

But, it's not the physical changes that have me the most in awe. It's truly the emotional, the inward changes.

Sara is still, and most likely always will be, a person haunted by a past that is beyond comprehension. But, her eyes now hold a lightness as well, a glint that wasn't there before the events of this past year.

Part of me wonders, though it was hell to witness her go through, if facing Liam and everything that transpired regarding her past was not the best thing for the stoic brunette. I genuinely fear that if Liam hadn't brought her past to the forefront, there may never have come a day when Sara shared the deepest and darkest aspects of her family with me. The full truth of what she'd been through.

Now, having confronted her past and seeing Dr. May on a regular basis, Sara seems more at peace than I can ever remember seeing her. She's still private, and I think I'm finally starting to accept that is simply part of her personality that I'll have to adapt to. That she isn't doing it to be secretive or elusive, just simply how she is. She's kept true to her word of including me regarding anything important about her well-being or our relationship, and that's good enough for me. And, if I'm honest, the more she's been seeing Dr. May, the more forthcoming and open she's been. If the pattern continues, perhaps there will be a day when all doors between us are kept permanently unlocked.

Perhaps.

But, in honesty, the fact that she's become willing to lend me the keys is more than I could've asked for.

Standing here next to her, having my soul mate back in my life, I couldn't be more content. I don't know why we were so lucky to be blessed with a chance to rectify our mutual mistakes, to get things right between us, but I'm eternally grateful.

I don't know what I would do without Sara.

"Cath?"

Sara's questioning voice pulls me back from my thoughts, my eyes meeting with concerned hazel ones.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," I reassure her, running my free hand across her temple. "Just thinking about how blessed I am."

Leaning forward, Sara brings her lips to my own, the kiss deep but gentle.

"Almost as blessed as I am," she whispers against my neck near my ear before pulling slightly back.

Sensing a change crossing her features, a tension moving through her body, I feel my heartbeat increase its pace.

"Sara?" I question, reaching out to hold both her hands in mine.

Closing her eyes briefly, she takes a deep breath.

When she exhales, her breathing sounds shaky.

"Sar?"

Opening her eyes, she searches my gaze for something before she pulls her hands from mine and takes a step back.

Now, I'm terrified.

Before I can move, Sara reaches down into her pocket and pulls out something dark that I can't get a good view of.

Taking another shaky breath, she slowly falls to one knee.

Now, my racing heart has all but stopped in my chest.

"I know we talked about this right in this very spot," Sara gets out, words heavy. "And I know so much has changed in the time between that conversation and this one."

Eyes lifting to mine, Sara's gaze is thick with emotion, with feelings threatening to consume her.

"But, despite all that, my feelings for you, Catherine Willows, have never changed."

Swallowing, she reaches over and pulls open the dark box in her hands to reveal the most beautiful diamond ring I have ever seen.

"You're my soul mate, Catherine. Nothing or no one in this world could ever make me complete but you. I can't imagine ever living my life without you in it, and nothing could ever change that. Nothing."

Taking a steadying breath, she keeps her eyes on mine.

"I know you've been through a lot this past year, that our relationship has been through a lot this past year. But I personally have never felt as close to you as I do now. We went through hell together, and somehow managed to make it out the other side. I love you, more than I can ever express."

Pulling out the ring, Sara holds it in her fingers a moment before cradling it in her palm.

"I want this to serve as a promise. A promise that no matter what else comes our way, that my love for you will always remain the same. That I will always be by your side for as long as you want me."

Clearing the emotion from her throat, Sara places the ring gently back in the box.

"A promise that the rest of this life we face _together_."

Swallowing, she takes a deep breath and extends the ring out to me.

"Catherine Elizabeth Willows, would you do me the honor of marrying me?"

Desperately trying to clear the emotion from my throat so that I can speak, so that I can give this amazing woman the answer I've been waiting to give her all along, I wipe the moisture from my eyes.

New tears immediately replace the old.

"Yes," I breathe out. "Yes, Sara. A thousand times over, yes."

Watching her eyes close, her hazel gaze is filled with moisture of its own when she opens them again.

Reaching down, I gently place my hand under her chin and draw her upwards to her feet.

Once she's standing I lean in, wrapping both my arms around her neck, placing my body against hers.

"I love you," I whisper against her lips. "So much."

Pulling back slightly, Sara smiles softly.

"Good, otherwise this whole situation would've become rather awkward."

Smiling as well, I draw her back in for another kiss.

Placing my head against her chest, Sara wraps her arms around me, holding me tightly in her strong embrace.

"I feel like I'm dreaming," I tell her, eyes closing.

"Me too."

We stay like that for awhile, neither one of us wanting to disturb this moment.

This moment that's as close to perfection as we'll likely ever get in this world.

* * *

><p>"I want to ask you something," I tentatively broach from my place in Sara's arms, breaking the contented silence we've been sharing.<p>

"Anything."

"Before I do, though," I state, words drawing off as I readjust my position to take the ring from her.

Sliding it on my ring finger, I feel more moisture come to my eyes that I don't even bother wiping away this time.

"It's beautiful," I breathe out, amazed at the light glimmering off the tasteful diamond settings. "Thank you."

Sara smiles slightly. "You're welcome."

Raising a brow, she searches my face, "Now what is it you wanted to ask me?"

Moving my eyes from the ring to hers, I swallow.

"I want you to know my answer is still yes no matter your response to my question, okay?"

Other brow joining her first, Sara nods.

"Okay," she states somewhat nervously.

Deciding to get this over with and not put her through torture waiting for me to gather my courage, I pull her hands into mine.

"I want to take your last name, Sara."

Her expression remains frozen, her eyes moving between my eyes and my mouth, like she is trying to comprehend the words I just spoke.

Then, the second her body catches up with her brain and the shock wears off, she starts to jerk away.

"No," I state, grabbing her wrists. "Please listen to me."

Jaw tight, Sara's eyes are no longer meeting my own.

"Please, sweetheart, just hear what I have to say."

Body tense and features stark, Sara finally nods, but her eyes still can't meet my own.

"Alright."

Closing my eyes in brief relief, I keep my hold on her firm.

"I know I'll never fully comprehend the implications the Sidle name holds for you. The feelings it evokes in you, both now and since you were a child."

I shake my head.

"I'll never presume to understand, Sara. But what I want _you_ to understand is that _my _experience of the Sidle name has been what I've experienced through _Sara_ Sidle."

She still won't meet my gaze.

"The Sidle that I've known has been the most loving, gentle, compassionate, kindhearted person I've ever had the pleasure to meet. She's the epitome of strength, always putting others before herself and sacrificing so much for the people in her life. She's the representation of everything that's _right_ in the world."

I steady myself, trying to keep my voice strong despite the emotion tightening my throat.

"I want the world to experience the Sidle name as I have."

She's silent, body eerily still except for a muscle working near her jaw.

Loosening my grip on her wrists slightly, I run my thumbs up and down her cold skin.

"Say something, honey…" I whisper, watching the woman that I love as she struggles to work through what I've just pushed on her.

The silence stretches on to the point where I'm about to retract my request, but, just then, I see her close her eyes before she slowly shakes her head.

"I'm the last one," she gets out. "It's so close to ending…"

"I know, sweetheart," I breathe out, moving so I'm now holding her hands between my own. "That's why I'm asking you this. I believe the world needs the Sidle name that I've experienced. The meaning of the name you've given to me."

I shake my own head.

"The legacy of you, Sara, shouldn't end."

When she doesn't answer, I reach out, gently turning her face towards my own.

"All these years, I've been carrying the name of my ex," I tell her seriously. "My ex who was anything but a good man. A man who physically and emotionally hurt me in ways that I'll never forgive."

Eyes now opening, she fixes her hazel gaze with my own.

"Every time I introduce myself or answer my phone as 'Willows,' I'm reminded of Eddie. Of the man and the marriage that was one of the darkest times of my life."

Lacing Sara's fingers through my own, I place a gentle kiss along her knuckles.

"I want to finally bury that part of my history, to bury that legacy and start our own, Sara. But I don't want to just go back to Flynn. I want to carry the name of the woman that I love. And, honey, I wish I could express to you the absolute _honor_ I would consider it to share your last name. The Sidle name."

Eyes shifting as she looks at me, emotions without definition cross her gaze, her body tense as she struggles to grapple with the situation.

"Catherine," she says quietly, voice trailing off as she tries to form her thoughts into words.

Running her fingers across my own, she tightens her hold on my hands.

"Catherine," she tries again. "I'd give you anything in this world you ever asked of me. I wouldn't even hesitate…"

She shakes her head, swallowing.

"But this," she forces out, emotion threatening to consume her words. "This is like asking me to drag you down into all the darkest parts of my own past. To give you a 'new' legacy that's anything but new. One that's actually an old legacy that's anything but the beautiful, amazing life I want to lie ahead for you."

Removing one of my hands from hers, I can no longer keep from reaching out to her.

Running my thumb gently across her cheek, I wipe at moisture she likely didn't even notice was there.

"What if we compromise?" I broach.

Eyes narrowing in curiosity, Sara quirks her head slightly.

"What if we mutually adopt each other's last names," I pose, watching her expression as I think through this new idea. "We create a truly new name, a new history, a new future."

Sara searches my expression before her eyes leave mine to move somewhere to my left.

"I know it means I'll still carry the Sidle name," I tell her in understanding of her hesitance. "That the Sidle name won't end. But it'll be a way to keep the name alive while incorporating it into a new beginning."

Taking a deep breath, Sara returns her gaze to my own.

"You're serious about this?" she asks, tone gravely serious. "You really want to have Sidle as part of your name?"

"Yes."

Reaching up, I hold her face gently between both my hands.

"Yes, Sara."

Eyes continuing to search mine, Sara takes another deep breath.

"Hyphenate it with Flynn?"

"Yes," I confirm. "That is, assuming you're willing to carry my own family name," I add hesitantly as that aspect of the bargain crosses my thoughts for the first time.

Smiling slightly, Sara shakes her head.

"Aside from your sister who may be certifiably off her rocker, the Flynn name seems relatively benign," she says with a wink.

Growing serious, Sara moves my hands from her face to hold them in hers.

"I'd be honored to be associated with your family," she tells me sincerely. "You, your sister, you've been more of a family to me this past year then I think my own blood family…"

She trails off, emotion choking the words before she can finish them.

Leaning up, I kiss her gently against her temple.

"I love you," I tell her simply.

Taking a calming breath, Sara swallows against her emotions.

"So, we're really doing this?" she poses, eyes colored with nervous resignation.

_Flynn-Sidle_.

I don't think I've ever heard anything so beautiful.

Smiling, I kiss her on the lips this time.

"We're really doing this."

Pulling back, I tuck her dark hair behind her ears.

"Thank you," I tell her sincerely, knowing she's giving up much more in this compromise than I am.

Nodding, she doesn't comment further, reaching out instead to pull me into her arms.

* * *

><p>Rolling into our driveway, I let out a deep sigh.<p>

"Back to reality."

Sara smiles, rubbing her eyes from her place in the passenger seat.

Staring out into the starry night, I gaze over at Sara.

Moonlight playing off her dark features, I smile when she catches my eye.

"I love you."

Smiling as well, Sara's eyes hold so much warmth.

Reaching over, she runs her hand through my hair.

Moving simultaneously closer, our lips meet for what has to be the thirtieth time since we started our ride home.

It's really a miracle we made it home alive with how distracted we both were.

And, I think as Sara's tongue reacquaints itself with my own, how distracted we apparently still are.

Hands reaching up and under Sara's shirt, a sharp knocking on the driver's side window sends me jumping nearly out of my skin.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," I mutter, hand clenching at my chest as I glance over to see none other than my sister grinning like a leprechaun outside my door.

Rolling down the window, I send her an incredulous look.

"Can I help you?" I ask pointedly, eyes moving not so subtly towards Sara who is trying to hold back a smile.

"Hey Sara," Nancy offers with a wide grin. "Didn't see you in there…"

"Alright, smartass," I shake my head. "Was there something you wanted?"

Still smiling, Nancy shrugs, "I actually came by to drop Mesa off, and I figured I should interrupt now before I see someone's naughty bits again."

"Good Lord," Sara mutters under her breath.

"I thought I should get him into the house so I can leave you two kids to yourselves for the evening," she adds, brow raised. "Welcome home, by the way. Nice trip?"

Shaking my head at my sister, I pull the keys from the ignition, rolling up the window before stepping out of the car.

Mirroring my actions, Sara moves around the front of the car, stopping nearby before she's nearly tackled by a blur of fur making his own presence known.

Ruffling Mesa's ears, Sara places a gentle kiss along his head, receiving more than a couple licks in return.

"I'll meet you inside," she tells me, moving around towards the front path as she takes Mesa's leash from Nancy. "Nice seeing you," she offers to my sister.

Eying Sara somewhat suspiciously, Nancy nods, giving Sara's arm a squeeze as she passes. "You too."

Once Sara disappears inside, Nancy's gaze falls on me.

"What's going on?" she questions with a quirked brow.

"Nothing," I shrug, but unable to keep the grin from my face.

Looking at me with narrowed eyes, Nancy looks less than convinced.

"Uh huh…" she mutters.

Then, I see her body go completely stiff.

"Oh my God."

Eyes widening, she reaches out, taking my left hand in hers.

"Catherine," she breathes out. "Oh my God…is this…did she…?"

"Yes."

Speechless, my sister's eyes move between the ring and my own, mouth open as she tries to form words.

"I…"

Shaking her head, she keeps her eyes on mine.

"Congratulations," she gets out, eyes moist.

Pulling her to me, we silently embrace one another tightly, both too overcome with emotion to try to formulate words.

Holding my little sister close, I feel myself warmed with the truth of just how blessed I am.

"I'm so happy for you," Nancy whispers. "So happy for you both."

We embrace awhile longer before I pull back slightly.

Standing out under the stars, I tell her about our trip, how Sara proposed, the decision we came to regarding our last names.

Watching me intently the whole time, Nancy reaches out to take my hands in hers when I finish.

Pulling me in, she places a kiss against my cheek.

"I love you so much," she tells me, sending me a teary smile. "I hope you know that."

Smiling, I reach out and ruffle her hair. "Always suspected."

Gazing back at the house, Nancy's expression shifts slightly.

Watching her, I quirk my head.

"What're you thinking?"

She directs her gaze back to me, sending me a soft smile.

"Just thinking of the woman you found for yourself that's sitting in there," she says. "How I finally, officially get to call her my sister."

Smiling as well, I hold Nancy's hand in mine.

All the struggles, all the trying moments we've all been through together. The journeys, the betrayals, the anguish, the sacrifices.

They've all led to this very moment.

It took a path fraught with both dark and light, but in the end, the destination to which it led was beyond my greatest imagining.

THE END.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading.<strong>


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